Luna Lovegood and the Cursed Trios
by Nate Grey
Summary: Luna Lovegood has a chance to all but ensure her new family's survival, via a lifelong, three-person curse that offers shared strength, but overrides free will. Luckily, she has two members of current cursed trios willing to coach her through it. And if any of that sounds suspiciously familiar? It should.
1. Chapter 1

Notes: And because my last two HP posts were arguably happy, now something a bit more bittersweet, to balance that out.

Summary: Luna Lovegood has a chance to all but ensure her new family's survival, via a lifelong, three-person curse that offers shared strength, but overrides free will. Luckily, she has two members of current cursed trios willing to coach her through it. And if any of that sounds suspiciously familiar? It should.

* * *

 **Luna Lovegood and the Cursed Trios**

 **A Harry Potter/Fantastic Beasts Fanfic by**

 **Nate Grey (xman0123-at-aol-dot-com)**  
 **Chapter 1: Miss Una**

* * *

 _The Crups Upon the Hill, Verse 1 of 5_

 _The only Crup upon the hill_

 _Lived lonely nights and days._  
 _He said, "This is no way to live!_  
 _I'll end my only ways!_  
 _I'll find a twin, my very own_

 _And he'll always answer my tone!"_  
 _No more only Crup upon the hill..._

* * *

"I know what you're planning to do, honey. And you don't have to. At least, the Luna I know wouldn't."

"I can't take that chance, Queenie."

The two witches stood only inches apart, their gazes locked. Though it was her own bedroom, Queenie Goldstein felt more than a little cornered. Although, if push came to shove, she was fairly confident that she had forgotten more about dueling than Luna Lovegood had ever learned, or at least would be able to use against her at the moment.

"Why are you so certain?" Queenie finally asked. "That we won't all come to love you on our own?" Her face softened. "That some of us don't already?"

Luna blinked away what might have been tears. "But that's just it. I'm not certain. Of anything, anymore. But this time, I'm not willing to wait years to find out. It's a compliment, really, when you think about it. This family is so warm and lovely-"

"That you want it to belong to you," Queenie finished. "And we could be yours. The natural way. The _right_ way, sweetie."

"You could also turn away from me. And that would destroy me. More completely than anything else I can imagine."

"And someone with your imagination lacks faith?"

"Only in the idea that love will come to me on its own."

"But you do have love on your own, Luna. You've let me see those wonderful friends of yours, so why-?"

Luna's face closed up, and Queenie knew at once. She had overstepped. And she instantly knew why.

Slowly, Luna raised her wand. "Please, Queenie. Just give me a lock of your hair. Don't make me-"

"-hurt me?" Queenie whispered, as much a confirmation as a challenge.

"Please," Luna repeated softly. "I _do_ love you, each of you. I know that you know I do."

"Yet you simply don't trust that I would continue to love you, knowing what I know. And you don't trust that I wouldn't tell the others."

"Are you saying that you wouldn't?"

"I'm saying that I'm disappointed, that someone I adore would resort to this, rather than trust in my words." Queenie shook her head. "Have you really thought this through, honey? What if I had defended myself? Attacked you? What then?"

Luna stared at her sadly. "If you had done that... I would have lost everything."

"Because you wouldn't allow me in your family then?"

"Because we both know that I could never harm you."

Queenie laughed softly. "You sweet, silly girl. If you alone are capable of that much love, then why can't you accept that we could-?"

Luna smiled bitterly. "You keep saying 'we could'... but right now, it's only you and my dear Rolf that love me. And as much as he loves me now, he could still change his mind. Then I'd only have you. And you would never turn away from your family, I know you wouldn't. And that's exactly why I need you in mine, Queenie. Why I can't afford to lose you."

"But that's not the only reason, is it?" Queenie asked. "You need the consent of one person to activate the curse. And Rolf would never have agreed to this. So you need the Legilimens on your side, or-"

"You know that has _nothing_ to do with it!" Luna cried, her voice raw. "Even if anyone else was the Legilimens, I would still tell _you_ the truth!"

Queenie smiled faintly. "And why would you? Say it one more time, Luna."

"Because... I love you," Luna whispered.

Queenie nodded, having heard enough. "Just not enough. Not enough to wait for the others to come to love you on their own."

"I don't want to force-"

"I never said you'd have to." Queenie produced a neatly-tied chunk of her own silver hair from her pocket and handed it over.

Luna stared at it. "You... were always going to give it to me?"

"I wanted to see the strength of your resolve, honey. If there was any chance that you weren't completely committed to this course of action, I wouldn't have let you move forward. Besides, the only way I would ever let someone do this to my family, is if their intentions were... not pure, but at least good." She smiled softly. "I know that you do this out of fear. But I know it is at least partially out of love, as well. So, if this is the only way to satisfy you, then... I'll be your conspirator."

"No," Luna said at once. "That makes it sound so dirty... so less than what it is. You're not my conspirator, Queenie."

Queenie hesitated, in the face of the combined flood of desperation, love, gratitude, and relief she suddenly felt coming off of Luna in waves. For the first time, she was truly able to appreciate how conflicted Luna felt about what she was doing... and how determined she was to see it done, despite that.

With a trembling smile, Luna reached for Queenie's hand, carefully intertwining their fingers. "Not a conspirator. Not at all," she murmured. "You're my Number Two."

* * *

Hermione Granger had received numerous invitations to have tea with Luna over the years. She accepted only some of them, and when she did, it was only ever in public settings. One of the more common reactions to a sip of gurdyroot infusion, was that one was enough to last a lifetime. And Hermione, for the sake of her continued friendship with Luna, had no desire to repeat the experience.

But one could not simply have tea with Luna. They had to _experience_ tea with Luna. The conversations alone kept Hermione up at night for days afterward. And that was when nothing unexpected happened.

So when one of those meetings was interrupted by the loud, signature CRACK of an elf appearing, Hermione knew she was in for a deluxe experience.

A young elf stood next to Luna's chair. He wore a brown, shapeless poncho, and violently bright socks on his feet. Hermione could easily see that one sock was yellow with constantly flapping ravens on it, while the other was blue with endlessly hopping hares.

Hermione did not need to ask where he got the socks from.

The elf spoke, in a voice soft with reverence as he stared up at Luna. "It is _you_."

Luna stared at him calmly. "Hello."

"They is telling me," the elf said. "Every day they is telling me. About the witch who, on the day I was born, put socks on my toesies, so no one could ever say I was a house-elf. About the witch who sends us new socks every year. So no one could say we was not free."

Hermione looked sharply at Luna, who kept her gaze trained on the elf.

"They is telling me this witch is a friend to all elves. They is telling me that she is kind and generous. So I... I has come here, to ask."

"What would you ask of me?" Luna said warmly.

"I has come to ask if Miss Luna would give me a name. A human name. So there can be no doubt that I is no house-elf."

Luna smiled. "Well, there is a particular human that I am quite fond of. He has had many names. There is one I especially like that he no longer uses. Would you be interested in having it for your own?"

The elf bowed low. "I is honored that Miss Luna thinks me so worthy of such a name."

Luna reached down and patted his shoulder. "None of that, now. Stand up straight and proud. Neither myself nor my friends will ever require you to bow to us. And as we both have human names, that makes us equals. But I should ask: what was your old name?"

The elf stood up straight. He seemed unfamiliar with it, at least in such a public place. "Wonky, Miss Luna. Wonky the free elf."

"Then from now on, you are Roonil Wazlib the free elf."

Hermione just barely stopped herself from snorting into her teacup. She was definitely going to have the best story, the next time she and Ron had dinner with Harry. Shaking her head, she cleared her throat and quickly summoned an extra chair. "Well, Roonil, my name is Hermione Granger, and we were just in the middle of tea. We'd be ever so pleased if you would join us."

Roonil stared at her in shock, then glanced at Luna, who nodded. "I... would be honored, Miss Mione." He hesitantly hauled himself into the chair, which Hermione had subtly adjusted for the height difference, and more closely resembled a child's high chair. It would probably be a bit uncomfortable, but it would allow him to see over the table.

It was, by far, the most pleasant tea that Hermione ever had with Luna.

* * *

"Come now, Roonil, old boy! You've never let me beat you twice in a row!"

Roonil blinked and turned his attention back to the chessboard in front of him. "Begging your pardon, Mister Rolf. Roonil's mind has been awandering today."

"Then perhaps we should stop, if your heart isn't in the game just now," Rolf Scamander suggested, looking concerned.

"No, no. Roonil's mind has come back to him. Let us play again, please."

"Never say die, guv'nor!" one of Roonil's recently flattened pawns cheered, raising a fist weakly.

"I must say," Rolf murmured as the chessmen righted themselves and scrambled back into place, some taking a bit more time due to wounds suffered in the last game, "when Luna told me that the first thing she taught you was how to play wizard's chess, I wasn't sure why. I thought, there had to be more important things to show you. Now, though, I wonder if she wanted to show you how we have fun, or if she somehow sensed that you're carting around the soul of a grandmaster."

Roonil did not reply. He was focused on the game, or at least appeared to be as Rolf made the first move. Really, though, Roonil was focused on the one thing Luna had asked him to do: keep playing chess with Rolf. It was not a difficult task, as Rolf thoroughly enjoyed playing against Roonil, but never before had the game been so important. As for why it was this time, Roonil wasn't entirely certain.

But he did know that Luna was up to something this night, something important and life-altering and, perhaps, nothing he should know the details of. He had sensed that much from the anxious look on her face, and the upset in her normally serene aura, which was practically visible to anyone who had known her long enough.

There was much that Roonil still did not understand about humans. He simply could not fathom how someone as wonderful as Luna had felt so alone for so much of her life. From the moment he'd met her, all he'd wanted to do was remain at her side. How much more simple could friendship be? Why was it so much more complicated for humans?

For Luna, the witch who had guaranteed his freedom and become his first human friend, Roonil would do anything. If she asked him to play chess while she went about her work, that was nothing. If that work included binding her family to her will... that was nothing, as well. Although, it was a nothing that he didn't have to like much.

If she had asked, though, he would have told her that it wasn't something a good woman like her should be involved in.

But if she _had_ asked, he would have done it for her, so her soul could remain clean.

Luna hadn't asked for any of that, however. She'd only asked him to play chess with Rolf. And, minutes later, when Roonil saw the brief, telltale flash of red in Rolf's eyes, he knew Luna's work was done. The part that involved cursing, at least.

* * *

Roonil appeared in the sitting room with a loud CRACK. "They is waiting in the kitchen, Miss Luna. And Miss Queenie and Mister Rolf is resting upstairs."

Luna looked up from her lap and smiled weakly. "Thank you, Roonil. I think... I can take it from here."

Roonil shook his head. "I told you on that first day, Miss Luna. I would walk with you, when you needed me, and especially when you say you don't. And you usually sound more sure when you say you don't."

Luna stood up. "You did say that, yes."

Roonil stepped closer. "You said we was friends. Equals, you called us. So you can't tell me what to do. I is no house-elf."

"All true," Luna agreed softly. "You are my companion, by choice."

"And you is mine." He stretched out his hand, his long fingers extended. "And I say I is not done walking with you."

Sniffling, Luna took his hand and squeezed it gently. "Thank you, my dear Roonil. I would be lost without you."

Roonil smiled. "You still not listening, Miss Luna. If you was lost, Roonil be lost with you. Because we walk together, remember?"

She nodded, no longer trusting herself to speak without crying.

"I has made apple cider for everyone. Miss Tina insisted."

Luna looked as if she might cry again, for an entirely different reason. Still, when Roonil tugged lightly on her hand, she followed him into the kitchen.

Newt and Porpentina Scamader were seated at the table: Newt, thin as always, and Porpentina, thin but a bit more curved around the edges. There was nothing pleasant about her face, which was frozen in a grimace, and the moment that Luna entered, Porpentina flicked her gaze away and would not meet her eyes.

Luna would be dealing with the ex-Auror, rather than the happy housewife, then. Few things truly terrified her about Porpentina, but that was certainly one of them.

Newt, on the other hand, met Luna's gaze evenly, as he always did: reserved, unafraid, and curious. It was he who gestured to the chair. "Please sit, Luna. You as well, Roonil." After a pause, and a glance at his wife, he added, "The apple cider is perfect, by the way. She would say so, except... ah."

Roonil nodded and sat, and after hesitating a second, so did Luna.

"We agreed, I think," Newt began, "that you would provide certain answers at this point."

"I will," Luna assured him. "All I ever wanted-"

"If you are about to say 'for us to trust you'..." Porpentina spat in a warning tone.

Newt placed his hand over his wife's. It did not take away her anger, but she did stop speaking.

Luna looked down at the table, blinking rapidly.

"Why don't we start at the beginning?" Newt suggested. "How did you first learn of the Cruply Curse?"

"A previous Number One," Luna answered.

Newt's eyes narrowed. "By previous, surely you don't mean...?"

"Oh." Luna seemed to realize that she had misspoken. "Sorry. I meant to say, a current Number One. Just that, they aren't part of my... of this... um, trio."

"Three is the required number of participants?"

"At first, at least. More can be added later, if necessary." She hesitated. "But, you said-"

"That one of the conditions for my silence and cooperation was that you not involve myself or my wife. Yes, I did. That has not changed. Still, I wanted to be certain."

Luna nodded slowly. "I see. Well, aside from reciting the spell itself, three Crup tails and a lock of hair from each person to be included are needed. They're combined to create a sort of amulet, but once the curse is active, the amulet merely becomes decorative. It has no importance after that."

"What are the effects of the curse?" Porpentina asked abruptly. "Beyond keeping all three alive, that is?"

"Shared power and vitality," Luna replied. "The trio can share power with each other, to increase their individual or collective strength in times of need. That's part of what makes them so difficult to kill. You can't just kill one. You would have to kill all three at the same time. Or they would all have to agree to die together. Which typically is the way the curse ends, and only after a rather long time. Any sooner would defeat the purpose. You wouldn't do... this, if you didn't want to live."

"And the rest?" Porpentina said coldly.

Luna swallowed hard. "There are specific roles. Number One is the person who activates the curse." When she felt Porpentina's hard stare, Luna went on. "As the leader, they can exercise a certain amount of control over the others."

"Please specify," Newt murmured.

Luna sighed. "In the examples I was given, when faced with a difficult decision, a person was compelled to pick the opposite of the choice they'd been leaning toward. But I should point out, the entire purpose of the curse is to survive. If someone were to choose something that would endanger them or another member of the trio, then of course the curse would compel them to prioritize the trio's survival."

"Is it the curse or Number One that compels them? You've implied that it's both."

"It is. When the curse is acting, it may present itself as a hallucination of Number One. But Number One can intervene in much the same way. So the curse can be thought of as a manifestation of Number One's will."

"So no free will," Porpentina said at once.

Luna grimaced. "That would depend on Number One's will. And to be clear, the Number One who told me all of this was such a person where, until they told me about the curse, I never suspected that there even was one. The other two had more than enough free will where they were never suspected of being cursed. Of having a charmed friendship, perhaps, but never cursed."

"And Number Two?" Newt asked.

"While Number One is the person who activates the curse, Number Two is the person who actually makes it possible. Their consent is required for the activation. And the consent must be heartfelt, not forced in any way. If they don't truly want it, the curse won't activate. Which isn't to say that they can't be convinced through talking."

"As you did with my sister," Porpentina concluded.

"Queenie... understands me," Luna said slowly. "I swear to you that I didn't trick her."

"And what does Queenie understand?" Porpentina demanded.

Luna stared at her. "She understands that Rolf and I both know the pain of losing two parents. She understands how alone that can make a person feel. And she understands that one might do nearly anything, to keep from losing any other family after that. That's why she gave her consent. She understands that I want to protect Rolf, not control him."

"No, controlling him is just a handy feature that comes with your protection."

"Do you really think Queenie would have agreed if she thought I would abuse that power? Do you think a Legilimens wouldn't know if I had or was planning to?"

Porpentina snorted. "Well, if you can just make her think whatever you want through the curse-"

But Luna was shaking her head. "That's one privilege exclusive to Number Two: they maintain free will in thought at all times. They are duty-bound to support Number One through action, but they can say whatever they wish while doing it. It's meant to be a conscience for Number One. Someone whose thoughts they can't forcibly manipulate. And I trust Queenie to tell me exactly when or if I overstep."

"And Rolf is Number Three," Newt said. "Which means what, exactly?"

"Traditionally, Number Three is thought of as the knight. The protector of the trio. Although in the trio I was familiar with, that very person was also the one that the other two wished to keep alive most. They were entire reason for the curse."

Porpentina stood up abruptly at that point, nearly overturning her chair.

Luna watched her with wide eyes. Newt looked as if he'd been expecting the outburst for some time.

"I know who it is!" Porpentina snapped. "Your other Number One was Harry Potter, wasn't it?! He and his two friends! So Ronald was Number Two! They did it to protect Hermione!"

Luna shook her head.

"Don't you dare lie to me!" Porpentina shouted, her nostrils flaring.

"I'm not," Luna said calmly. "Harry could never do that. And not for the reasons you might assume. It's not because he's too good or too perfect, or anything silly like that. The original written account of the curse is purposely misleading, in order to protect the truth about the first Number One. About every Number One who initiates the curse. It's a requirement of the position, in fact."

"And what's that?" Newt asked.

Luna sighed. "Harry couldn't be Number One, because... Number One must always be female."

* * *

"You can go ahead and blame me, Mr. Lovegood. This is all my fault."

The woman knelt down and carefully placed the bouquet of sunflowers beside the grave.

"But I don't want you to worry. I'll watch over Luna. I swear it."

She stood up slowly, brushing the dust from her Ministry-issue robes as the wind began to pick up.

"If there's one positive thing I've learned about this curse, it's this. It teaches you to take good care of your own."

After offering a brief prayer, Hermione turned to leave. With the wind roaring in her ears, she brushed her bushy, brown hair out of her eyes, which briefly flickered to silver before returning to their usual brown.

* * *

 _The Crups Upon the Hill, Verse 2 of 5_

 _The twinly Crups upon the hill_

 _Faced never-ending foes._  
 _Their twinly might, it still fell short_

 _And could not end their woes._  
 _But the thirdly Crup, the Cruply knight_

 _He never would give up the fight._  
 _Cruply trio, three upon the hill..._

* * *

 **Continued in Chapter 2: Miss One**

Harry was prepared to die as the final Horcrux, to bring an end to suffering. But few of his allies realized that he might also want that in order to end his own suffering. And when he had the chance, one intervened. Rather, Number One did.

* * *

 **Endnotes:**

When I started this story, I knew there would be a curse involved, but I had no plans to put it to words or music, just to sort of vaguely refer to it here and there. And yet, by the second day, I had the verses done, and they somewhat matched the tune of "The Ants Go Marching" (if you sing fast enough, anyway), so that worked out.

This is actually _not_ the Roonil Wazlib backstory story that I referred to earlier, but apparently I tend to work him into any story where Luna is an adult, anyway. And I think his role here is a bit more important, so that worked out, too.

Three chapters planned, each for a single member of a different trio. I'm sure you can guess who gets the next one.


	2. Miss One

**Luna Lovegood and the Cursed Trios**

 **A Harry Potter/Fantastic Beasts Fanfic by**

 **Nate Grey (xman0123-at-aol-dot-com)**  
 **Chapter 2: Miss One**

* * *

 _The Crups Upon the Hill, Verse 3 of 5_

 _Number One upon the hill_

 _Says how it ought to be._  
 _Number Two can fuss and fight_

 _But by duty, must agree._  
 _And with twinly might ever at his back_

 _Number Three need flee from no attack._  
 _Always three, three upon the hill..._

* * *

"I don't believe you!" Porpentina said at once.

Roonil frowned at her. "Miss Luna isn't lying, Miss Tina."

Porpentina glanced at him, frowned, and slowly sat back down. Of the many things that Roonil was willing to do for Luna, lying was indeed one of them... but Luna would never insult her friendship with the elf by asking him to speak falsehoods, not for her. Rather, she would ask him not to speak at all.

Luna shrugged. "I had thought that you might react this way. But it's true: only a female can initiate the curse. You were convinced that Harry was part of a cursed trio, and he is. He just isn't the one who cast it. He's Number Three."

"Hermione told you that?" Newt asked.

"Yes, but she didn't have to. Once I knew she was Number One, the rest was obvious. Ron never holds his tongue, he's a perfect Number Two. And while any one of them would protect the others, no one takes that more seriously than Harry. He was their knight even before the curse. And he was also the one most likely to be in danger. He'd need to be able to draw on their strength. But Hermione is the only one of them that would think of using this curse as a way of doing it. She's also the only one who could talk Ron into it. And that was long before they got married."

"Are you suggesting that the friendship between Harry, Ron, and Hermione is based on a lie?"

"Just the opposite," Luna said immediately. "That the friendship was so powerful, magical, and real, that it couldn't be allowed to end. At least, not at the point where it would have ended, if not for the curse. Harry alone stripped Voldemort of his power. Together, they ended Voldemort's reign of terror for good. Why would any member of the wizarding world in their right mind ever want such an incredibly positive force to end?"

Newt frowned at her. "You speak as if you know of someone who did, in fact, want it to end, and wasn't in their right mind at the time."

Luna bit her lip nearly hard enough to draw blood, then shook her head slowly. "All that matters is this: if not for the curse, one or more of them would be dead now. If that doesn't convince you of the curse's value, nothing will."

Porpentina scowled at her. "Unless you can give us details on the specific situation-"

"Surely," Luna interrupted, "you can appreciate that I was only informed of that situation with the understanding that I would never reveal the details of it. Beyond what I've already said. I could only tell you that much because you know about the curse. I don't want anyone to end their friendship or their curse, either."

"And suddenly we're the untrustworthy ones?" Porpentina demanded.

Luna pursed her lips. "Isn't the entire reason for this conversation that you don't trust me, and want more information? Wasn't a condition of allowing me to proceed with the curse that you didn't want to be involved in it? I gave you a chance to be taken into my confidence. You refused, as was your right. But you can't demand to be told everything now. You being untrustworthy isn't the issue, you wanting to be kept out of the loop is. So now you are. But this is part of what goes with that: you won't be told everything. The only way that changes is if you want to be added to the curse. As you're already guessing, trusting you really wouldn't be an issue then, since I could prevent you from sharing the information. But it's much simpler to do that by not giving it to you in the first place. Which, again, was your idea."

"She has a point," Newt agreed.

"Don't you take her side, Newt!" Porpentina snapped.

Newt raised his eyebrows. "Do you remember the fight we had over me learning Occlumency?"

"Of course I do! I told you that you were being insensitive to Queenie! Just because she's a natural Legilimens-"

"And do you remember how Queenie responded?"

Porpentina frowned at him. "She was impressed, and said not many people could learn it."

"Did she resent me for it?"

"She says she didn't, but-"

"Wizards deal in secrets, darling. Particularly former Aurors like yourself. Particularly wizards with things they prefer to keep private, like myself. We can hardly judge Luna for keeping her own, or being loyal to her friends. It's none of our business what happened to them. Our only concerns are what will happen to Queenie and Rolf. And, presumably, what won't happen to them, if this curse works properly. I can't deny that the thought of them not dying before us is a comfort."

"Of course, I don't want to bury them, either. But there's just so much we don't know-"

"And will never know. If Luna was the type of person to betray a friend's trust, I don't think she would still be friends with Harry Potter. And we just had dinner with him not a month ago, so I doubt they've had a falling out since then."

Porpentina said nothing to this. Not only had they had Harry over for dinner, she had actually insisted on dueling with him, just to see what he was made of. Over many protests, Harry had agreed. But what started out friendly enough quickly turned serious, as Porpentina pushed and pushed until Harry was forced to step up his game. By the end, they'd both been exhausted and bruised, but they looked at each other with new respect, and Harry said he was looking forward to the next time he could visit. And Porpentina had to admit that she was, too.

It wasn't liked she'd wanted to kill him. But now knowing he was under a curse that wouldn't have let him die, even if she had wanted to kill him, put something of a wet blanket over her excitement. On the other hand, if the same curse would protect Rolf and Queenie, she could hardly complain too much about it. But she still didn't like that Luna had been the one to activate it. Luna wasn't even part of their family. Yet, Porpentina knew very well that her reaction would have been twice as bad, if Luna had waited until after Rolf married her to pull a stunt like this. At least she had approached them first.

"How is it that Queenie didn't know about Hermione?" Newt asked abruptly.

"A side effect of the curse," Luna replied. "It conceals itself from outsiders as a way of ensuring its survival. I've never had a single lesson in Occlumency, but anyone peering into my thoughts would see no sign of either curse. If Hermione didn't trust me, I likely would have forgotten everything the second I was away from her."

"And why did she tell you about the curse? I assume you didn't find out on your own?"

"She said it was because... I had a real need for it," Luna said slowly. "And that was the only reason she was able to find the curse. Otherwise, the runes she translated the curse from wouldn't have been visible to her. It won't appear to you, unless you need it. The curse only comes to you after you've lost something precious."

* * *

In a slightly musty tent, with blue flames crackling in a nearby jar, Hermione Granger came to a sudden realization.

She hated Voldemort.

Not because of the terror he inspired, or the corpses he piled up, or the many lives he ruined just by existing, though those were all excellent reasons, and certainly she would have hated him for those, if they had been the only reasons.

No, the very real, vastly more important reason she hated Voldemort was currently sleeping at her side, or at least trying to. Harry had been tossing in his sleep for some time now, had in fact woken her up with his moaning and grunting. And she couldn't possibly sleep now, not because he was too loud, but because she was too worried about him.

It wasn't going to end. Harry's sleep would be haunted until was Voldemort gone. Perhaps even longer than that, but certainly that long, at least. And waking him was not an option. It would only embarrass Harry and make him feel guilty for waking her, and then they'd both be exhausted and irritable the following morning. More than they were already, that is. Ron being gone certainly wasn't helping the mood much.

Harry let out another grunt, this one sounding a bit pained, and rolled over.

Hermione briefly stroked his hair until he stilled.

With little else to do, Hermione turned to her usual standby for entertainment: she pulled out a book. It was the copy of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ that Albus Dumbledore had left her. She had read the whole thing already, but when nothing had leaped out at her as being the obvious reason Dumbledore had wanted her to have it, she had promised herself that she would give it another look.

She was still flipping through the book when Harry suddenly whimpered, muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "Cedric," and began thrashing about in his sleeping bag.

Hermione immediately dropped the book and stretched out behind Harry, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in the back of his neck. "I'm here, Harry," she whispered.

After a few seconds, Harry dropped off again.

Even then, Hermione continued to cling to Harry, certain that he would need further comforting. According to Ron, the Cedric nightmares tended to be all-nighters, and it was easier to wait for the next disturbance, rather than to try and fall asleep between them. As he had been Harry's roommate for the past few years, this was one area where Hermione wasn't going to doubt Ron. So often she had accused Ron of being insensitive, but even Ron had confided in Hermione that Harry's night terrors were something that he occasionally felt powerless to handle.

Then again, as good a friend as Ron was to Harry, Hermione highly doubted that Ron would crawl into Harry's bed and hold him until he feel asleep. In point of fact, she felt fairly certain that she was the only one in Harry's life who might even consider it (with the possible exceptions of: Ginny, who could never get away with it while Ron was in the next bed; Tonks, only if Harry was prepared to endure much teasing both from her and his classmates; and Romilda Vane, if Harry didn't mind being molested in his sleep). And sleeping with Harry at Hogwarts or The Burrow was completely out of the question, which meant this was probably the first time that someone had ever held Harry so that he could sleep comfortably through the night.

On second thought, Hermione decided that she might hate the Dursleys slightly more than Voldemort. She hated to think it, but at least Voldemort wanted to kill Harry as a baby outright, not raise him like a prisoner for a decade.

Her parents had never been so cruel.

Her parents, who she might never see again.

Her parents, who didn't even know there was a Hermione-shaped hole in their lives, would never know, unless she survived and found them again.

Before Hermione realized it, she was the one needing comfort, and was crying softly into the back of Harry's shirt. She was amazed that this hadn't disturbed him. But then, he was probably used to people doing a lot worse than crying in his nightmares.

Once she had calmed down, and was reasonably sure that Harry was fine, Hermione rolled onto her side and scooted back, pressing her back to his. Harry didn't react, so she picked up her discarded book and returned to thumbing through it. One of the pages almost seemed to stick to her thumb. Oddly, the page was entirely blank... at first. But as Hermione stared at it, runes began to appear on it. Runes that were gradually translating into English before her eyes.

Hermione pinched herself to make sure that she was not dreaming or, even odder than that, translating in her sleep. But no, she was awake, and the translation looked accurate. And once she read it, she was certain that it was.

"Just in case you should have a need for it. Sincerely yours, Albus Dumbledore," Hermione murmured. Eyes wide, she turned the page, and found a five verse poem spread across two pages that had not been there before. By the third read-through, Hermione was convinced that it seemed familiar, and within minutes had found the proper reference in one of the books she'd taken from Dumbledore's office.

"Just in case," Hermione whispered. "But I'm sure it won't be necessary." She stuffed both books back in her bag, but even as she leaned against Harry and tried to fall asleep, her mind could not help but consider how simple it would be to collect the few ingredients needed. Indeed, for such a powerful spell, it was remarkably simple to prepare. She could have most of it ready in just a few hours. She could even do it while Harry slept one night, or the next time one of them had to venture out for food.

The only thing preventing her, really, was Ron being gone. But he would come back, she was certain. He'd realize what an idiot he'd been in leaving, or someone would guilt him into returning, or the thought of what could be happening between she and Harry would drive him mad with jealousy eventually.

Ron would return. And then she'd have everything she needed, in more ways than one.

"Just in case," Hermione said again, and this time as she closed her eyes, she almost believed it.

The next time Harry woke her up, it was because he was snoring directly in her ear, and had flung his arm over her. The only thing this accomplished was convincing Hermione of exactly why Dumbledore had left the book to her.

As silly as it sounded, just then, she wouldn't give up Harry snoring in her ear for anything else in the world.

* * *

"What am I supposed to do?" Harry Potter murmured to himself. Though that was misleading.

Seconds earlier, he had been talking to Albus Dumbledore at King's Cross station. Except it hadn't really been Dumbledore, apparently. And it wasn't really King's Cross. If he understood right, at least.

Things got confusing that way, when you were between life and death, Harry guessed. Which he apparently was.

And Dumbledore, as was his way, had left Harry with answers, and yet far more questions than when they'd begun. But Harry would have settled for answer to the one.

Look for a train, and move on?

Or go back, to the pain and suffering, the friends and the love, the darkness and the light?

There was a time when he wouldn't have hesitated. But now, with the deaths of Fred, Remus, and Tonks so fresh in his mind... he had to stop and think. Really think.

"This _isn't_ a hard decision, Harry," said a familiar voice behind him.

Harry was one part relieved and one part annoyed. "Hermione! What are you...? No, wait, let me guess. You're going to leave me with more questions, like he did, aren't you?"

She frowned at him. "Harry, this is not one of those times where I lead you to a different perspective so that you can solve the problem by yourself."

"But you're not going to just give me the answer, either," Harry pointed out. "If you did, I'd know you were an impostor, and then I'd have to hex you."

She smiled. "I suppose I deserve that. And it's good to see that you are thinking this over. Under other circumstances, I'd be proud of you." Her smile vanished. "But you're debating whether to come back to us or not. So I'm not pleased with you at all. You shouldn't even have to think about that!"

Harry sighed and lowered his head. "I'm tired, Hermione. Of losing people. Of people dying for me. Of people wanting me dead just because I exist, or some dumb prophecy told them I shouldn't. I want it to end."

"And so you want to end us, too? The three of us? We're a team, Harry. I thought we were friends!"

"We _are_ friends," Harry insisted. "But, maybe you two would be better off without-"

"I forbid you to leave us, Harry Potter!" she shouted, sounding every bit his mother when she was angry. At least, he thought she must. It made him smile. Painfully.

"Hermione, I do love you. And I love Ron, but don't you dare tell him I said so. You two are the best things that ever happened to me, really. And if it were only a choice of coming back to you, or Ginny and the Weasleys, of course I would. But it's not just you guys. It's the hurt and the sorrow and-"

 _"I command you to return to us."_

Harry paused, frowning at the cold look on Hermione's face, at the silver ring that had appeared within each of her eyes. It was entirely unlike her. He didn't much care for it. "Look, Hermione, just because you-"

 _"It's not a request."_

Harry gaped at her. Something was very wrong here. His body didn't feel right, and the white mist around them was increasing. Although, maybe that was because of where they were, in his head, or-

 _"Number One commands you. Come back to us now, Harry."_

Harry stared at her. Not able to argue. Not able to move away. Not able to even think. Not able to do anything but hear her voice... and obey.

* * *

"You did WHAAAAT?!"

Hermione sighed and closed her eyes. She could still hear Ron pacing, and presumably flapping his arms. She really wished he hadn't inherited that particular quirk from Percy.

"Ron, we have already talked about this. I'm quite sure, as I was there." When he didn't respond right away, she saw her chance to strike. "And you agreed to it!" she added accusingly.

Ron flinched. "Yeah, but you didn't say-!"

"Say what?" Hermione demanded.

"You didn't say you could control his mind!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, I wouldn't have, would I? You obviously wouldn't have agreed."

He gaped at her, torn between outrage and horror. "Have you been controlling _my_ mind, too?!" he shrieked, grabbing at his own head.

"Honestly, Ron! I don't need magic to control you! I do happen to be a girl, in case you forgot that part again! One that you enjoyed-! Well! _Things_ with!"

They both blushed, briefly recalling heated glances and stolen kisses.

But all too soon, Ron remembered why he was upset in the first place. "But you still controlled _Harry's_ mind!"

"He was going to _leave_ us, Ron! He was going to abandon us, so he could go off and die! Is that what you wanted for Harry? For your best mate? For the three of us?!"

"Of course not! But you didn't say you could do all of that! You said strong suggestions! You said influence! You made it sound like you could lead him to safer solutions if he was considering something really dangerous and stupid! You never said brainwash! You never said the equivalent of Imperius!"

"It's _nothing_ like that!"

"Isn't it?!"

Hermione glared at him. "First of all, need I remind you that even if I could force Harry to do something totally against his will, so outside of his basic nature, the only thing I made him do was live! And if that was something he really didn't want to do, then you'd better be bloody glad I forced him into it!"

Ron grimaced. "You know I am, but you said-"

"That this curse would help keep Harry alive. Which it did!"

"But you made me think he'd want to die because... because he was the last Horcrux, and we had to get rid of it to win the war! You never said he might want to die because..." Ron hesitated, the pain obvious in his eyes. "Because he was sick of everything. You never said he might want to die just because he might want to die!"

"Because I wasn't about to let that happen, obviously! And I needed your help to prevent it, and don't you dare tell me that you regret that, Ron!"

"I wouldn't want to lose Harry, either, but you should have told me the truth, Hermione!"

"And if I had, and you'd refused, then Harry could be dead right now, and _you_ would be dead to me, Ronald Weasley! If I could have saved him, and the only thing I needed was your consent, but you didn't give it to me, and we lost our very best friend, then-"

Ron backpedaled, because Hermione was suddenly crying, and snot was falling from her nose thick and fast, and he couldn't understand half of what she was saying anymore because it was either gibberish or Gobbledygook, and he just wanted her to stop leaking so much. He tried to hug her, but he wasn't eager to be so wet, and in any case, she slapped his hands away.

It wasn't like he couldn't understand how she felt. This was Harry, after all. If he'd seen Harry about to fall from a cliff, of course Ron would have saved him. But that was the thing. He'd always assumed Harry would have to be falling.

He'd never considered that Harry might jump.

Or that Hermione could use some mind-controlling curse to force Harry not to jump.

And Ron could now admit that he'd seen flashes of... something in Harry, in the hours before Voldemort fell for good. Whatever it had been, he hadn't liked it at all. But he hadn't said anything to Hermione, assuming she already knew and just didn't want to face it or say it aloud, to make it real for them all.

Harry had been prepared to die. But the idea that he'd wanted to? It was scary.

Harry wasn't _supposed_ to die. It couldn't be allowed. He was supposed to marry Ginny, make babies with her, come to family dinners, _be_ family. And sure, Ron was going to be breathing down his neck half of the way, because Ginny was his baby sister, but Harry was still his best mate, so he wouldn't be _too_ rough on him.

Harry wasn't supposed to die. How could he not _know_ that? Did he really have to be told?

Did Hermione really have to force him? Wasn't the idea of growing old with his two best friends enough? Weren't they enough? Didn't he want to be with them anymore?

These weren't the type of questions that Ron wanted to ask anyone. Certainly not Harry. He didn't even want to ask himself.

"Was it... I mean, did he fight you?" Ron whispered suddenly. "When you say you had to force him...?"

Hermione looked up at him, her face still dripping in places. "It wasn't like that, Ron. He was supposed to say yes. But he hadn't decided. He actually had to think about it, like it wasn't obvious. That scared me. So I took the choice away. I said yes for him. That's all. There was no fight."

"So he doesn't _know_? He can't... hate you, or anything?"

She smiled weakly, touched by his concern for her, even now. "No. He doesn't."

Ron didn't dare ask which question she was answering.

* * *

Hermione was not at all surprised at the sight that greeted her when the door was flung open: Ginny Potter, scowling thunderously. It was gone in an instant, however, and the false smile that Ginny pasted on her face hurt far more than the scowl had.

"Hi, Ginny," Hermione said as warmly as she could.

"Hi, Hermione," Ginny responded in the same manner. "Thanks for coming over."

"Of course. How bad is it this time?"

"He won't tell me, so pretty bad, I think."

Hermione hesitated. "How, um, is your passenger?"

Ginny couldn't help smiling a bit. "Quiet tonight. Yours?"

"Already learning the conga, I think."

"Well, I warned you that years of being an overachiever would come back to haunt you."

They took a moment to stare at each other's prominent midsections, smiling outwardly, while inwardly no doubt each celebrating the ruin of the other's figure.

Ginny looked up first. "Harry's in the kitchen, wearing out my floor with his pacing."

"Right. This shouldn't take long." She started to move past Ginny, then saw something in Ginny's face that she didn't like. "Ginny. What is it?"

"I don't like this," Ginny said at once.

Hermione waited.

"I'm his wife. You're his best friend. He should be able to talk to me about this. Especially if it's Horcrux related!"

Hermione sighed. "Ginny, we've talked about this. You were both possessed _by_ a Horcrux, but Harry actually _was_ one. It's a slight difference, but an important one. I've seen Harry at his worst. It isn't a side he wishes to reveal to anyone, least of all his wife. Even if she would understand and forgive it. Especially if she would, frankly. He wants to be held responsible. He doesn't want forgiveness."

"I feel like I'm being stupid and that you two are having an affair right under my nose."

Hermione's face fell. "Oh, Ginny, no. I would never do that to you, or to Ron, or to our babies."

"I know," Ginny snapped, "but I can't help how I feel! How it looks, from the outside looking in! Even Ron can only calm Harry down so much until you get there! So even if you look me in the eye and swear there's nothing going on, I just can't believe that there isn't!"

"You know that Harry didn't have any friendships that lasted before he met Hagrid," Hermione said gently. "I was the first girl that he ever really bonded with. I can't help how it looks, but I can promise you that Harry sees me as a bossy big sister, one that is never going to abandon him. I'm quite sure that the idea of having sex with me would disgust him on several levels."

Ginny laughed, but it was bitter, and Hermione wasn't sure how effective a comfort her statement had been. Finally, though, Ginny nodded. Hermione nodded back, then went into the kitchen.

Harry had stopped pacing and was now seated on the floor, his head in his hands.

Hermione couldn't help feeling a bit annoyed as she braced her back with both hands. "Harry? It's two in the morning, and I am pregnant. I am not getting on the floor with you. So you can stay there and keep worrying your wife, or you can get up. I don't care if I do live just next door, this was quite a journey for me in this state, and if I wasted it, I am going to hex you."

Harry raised his head and slowly stood up. He hesitated, possibly discouraged by the frown on her face, then carefully put his arms around her neck and buried his face in her hair. He did not cry, but Hermione almost would have preferred if he had, rather than just inhaling the scent of her hair the way he was.

"I was dreaming," he said after a long moment. "I was in bed with Ginny. Just watching her sleep. I do that sometimes. Especially now. And, all of a sudden, I realized that I didn't feel anything. Normally, watching her just makes me feel at peace, but this time, I... I didn't feel _anything_ , Hermione."

Hermione understood perfectly.

Harry had said it was a dream only because he was very much aware of Ginny's presence in the doorway.

Only it hadn't been a dream. Those, you could wake up from. And when Harry said he hadn't felt anything, he hadn't just meant his body. He'd meant he couldn't feel anything for his pregnant wife.

He was afraid that he was still a Horcrux. And he wasn't entirely wrong about that. Only this time, Voldemort wasn't responsible. Although perhaps that former connection had made Harry more sensitive to another presence in his body. But because it felt so natural, either because he'd always had one, or because the presence wasn't hostile this time and had been at his side for so long, he had no idea what was responsible, and just blamed echoes of a ghost.

Hermione wanted to tell him. Truly, she did. But of the many things she could convince him of, the one thing she didn't want to have to force him to believe was that she was nothing like Voldemort.

"Harry, look at me," Hermione finally said. When he took his time about it, she simply grabbed his face and held it, bringing his forehead to hers, and more importantly, blocking Ginny's line of sight. "I am going to tell you two things. _Number One, and this is an order, you love your wife and your kid, and you will keep loving them._ Number two, you are going to bed now, and you will sleep until you wake up feeling refreshed. Rinse and repeat. I don't want to have this conversation again any time soon, okay?"

By the time she released him, the red glow had faded from his eyes. "Sorry to call you over so late, Hermione," he murmured, looking ashamed. "I'm a real mess, aren't I?"

She patted his cheek fondly. "I would not be married to Ron if I didn't mind cleaning up a mess here and there."

He smiled weakly. "I'll walk you back over-"

"You will _not_ ," she interrupted firmly. "I am pregnant, not helpless, you belong in bed with your wife, and anyway, I sent a Patronus to wake Ron the second I got here."

An instant later, the doorbell rang. Ginny soon returned with Ron. Both looked as if they would very much like to be getting back to bed.

"Sorry about this, mate," Harry apologized.

Ron yawned and patted Harry on the shoulder. "Remind me to thump you when I'm fully awake. Now go to sleep, you git."

Harry went to bed immediately, while Ginny walked Ron and Hermione to the door. Still half-asleep, Ron clumsily reached out to give Ginny a half-hug and brushed his lips over the top of her head before stumbling outside. Hermione, however, grasped Ginny's shoulders and pressed her lips firmly to Ginny's forehead. She was relieved when Ginny's only reaction was to close her eyes and sigh.

"I do love you, Ginny," Hermione said softly.

Ginny opened her eyes and stared at Hermione, long enough where Hermione was sure the sentiment wasn't going to be returned this time. But then Ginny spoke, and said the one thing Hermione had been hoping she wouldn't.

"If you let him stay with me... if you don't take him from me... I'll find a way to forgive you."

Hermione stared at the door for a few seconds after it slowly closed in her stunned face.

Ginny didn't know about the curse... but she could still tell that Hermione had a hold on Harry's heart and mind that no other woman could even begin to approach.

Hermione slowly turned and easily caught up to Ron, who had either paused to wait for her or fell asleep standing up. Possibly both. Either way, he snorted and started in a rather suspect manner when Hermione took his arm.

"I forgot, you know," he said abruptly as they headed up their front walk. "That it's not an otter anymore. When I woke up and saw that huge dog-thing on top of me, for a second I thought I'd made a Patronus in my sleep again. Or that Fluffy was back to finish me off."

Hermione shook her head. "Yours was always a 'dog-thing', Ron. It's just larger and three-tailed now. And as for Fluffy, I won't even dignify that with a response."

"I don't hate it or anything. I just miss the otter. That's all."

"I suppose that's nice of you to say, but I'm more impressed that you don't miss Fluffy."

Ron snorted. "No disrespect to Fang, but if Hagrid could actually train a dog properly, I wouldn't have minded having Fluffy around to deal with pretty much everything that lived in the Forbidden Forest and tried to kill us."

Hermione smirked. "Don't forget the Blast-Ended Screwts."

Ron laughed and squeezed her. "Believe me, I'm _still_ trying to forget them."

* * *

 _The Crups Upon the Hill, Verse 4 of 5_

 _None shall land upon the hill_

 _Without a One's consent._  
 _Let all who would invade the hill_

 _Be praised in Three's lament._  
 _They will wail, and they will curse the Three._  
 _"Die upon your hill of bones!" will be_

 _The last cry of those beneath the hill..._

* * *

 **Concluded in Chapter 3: Mister One**

The first cursed trio remains. The final Number, sentenced to live, and now die, stands alone.

* * *

 **Endnotes:**

Technically, Fluffy _was_ trained properly, in that he was an excellent guard dog. Although, why he couldn't have stuck around as one past that single year is never outright stated. There were plenty of other dangers at Hogwarts, and he could have stayed tied up near Hagrid's cabin to keep people away from the Forbidden Forest, unless they had special permission to go there. Which almost always involved talking to Hagrid first, anyway, so even more reason. So the assumption here is that he was sent away largely because he wasn't trained well enough. And with Fang the only other dog we know of that Hagrid keeps, who never listens to him, it wouldn't shock me if even Hagrid had trouble with Fluffy when music wasn't involved.


	3. Mister One

Notes: Yes, I know, an awful long time between updates. But an extra long chapter, and a bonus ending, to make up for it.

* * *

 **Luna Lovegood and the Cursed Trios**  
 **A Harry Potter/Fantastic Beasts Fanfic by**  
 **Nate Grey (xman0123-at-aol-dot-com)**  
 **Chapter 3: Mister One**

* * *

 _The Crups Upon the Hill, Verse 5 of 5_

 _And when Death comes upon the hill_  
 _How puzzled he will be._  
 _For how can Death take just one soul_  
 _Twisted up among the Three?_  
 _For no Crup would ever bow and fall_  
 _Unless his twins answer his call._  
 _Always three, lie beneath the hill..._

* * *

"This isn't my bed," Rolf said as soon as he woke up.

"You were always a quick one, Rolfie," said the person lying next to him.

That voice, along with the sheer amount of lace and perfume he was detecting, told him exactly who the bedroom belonged to. No one but his great-aunt Queenie had ever called him 'Rolfie', mostly because he hated it. But he adored her, as most people did, so the nickname sort of stuck. But only with her, thank goodness.

"Why am I in your bed?" he asked.

"You'd have to ask Roonil. We were both here when I woke up."

"And instead of waking me up-?"

"Why would I? You looked so comfy."

Rolf sighed. He noticed, for the first time, that Queenie's bed actually was large enough to fit her, and either two people, or one rather large person his size, comfortably. She could have expanded it magically, but he had been in the room before, and was almost certain nothing had changed. Other than him being in her bed, anyway. That was very, very new. At least, the last time he had been in it, Queenie had been taller than him, and he'd still been afraid to sleep alone. Also, she'd been paid exactly a chocolate bar to babysit him, which was offensive only in that she would have done it happily for free, and would have preferred a danish instead.

"So. Just to be clear, we're not getting out of bed yet?" Rolf asked.

Queenie shrugged. "I don't see any point in rushing."

"I feel like I'm missing something important. Did Roonil forget where my bed is, or-?"

"Maybe he only wanted to make one trip. Even if he had to levitate you, probably wasn't easy on him."

This was too true to be hurtful, Rolf decided. If Queenie ever said something mean, it was almost always by accident.

"Let's talk about Luna," Queenie decided abruptly. "You go first."

"Alright." Rolf tried to think of the best place to start, unaware that he was already smiling, and equally unaware that Queenie was smiling at him smiling. "I think I love her, Queenie."

"That's nice."

"And I... I'm fairly certain she's rather fond of me."

"Why wouldn't she be?"

"Yes, well... I think I'd really like to marry her. Eventually. Once she's had time to get a handle on her grief. She and her late father were very close, you see. And there are still some things we'd have to decide after that, but assuming we do? I think she's the one." He hesitated. "You... do like Luna, don't you?"

"She's adorable."

"That's nice to hear, but I meant, do you like her for me? As a match? As my wife-to-be?"

"Well, let me think." Queenie closed her eyes. "If I said she was a nice girl, but that I didn't think she was right for you, and that you shouldn't marry her, what would you say?"

Rolf frowned. " _Are_ you saying that?"

"Nope. Just saying, what if I said that?"

"Ah. Well. I would have to say that as much as I love and respect you, we would have to agree to disagree. But I would still hope very much that you would attend the wedding, despite your personal feelings on the marriage itself. If for no other reason than you loved and respected me enough to do so."

"Hmm. That _does_ sound like me, doesn't it?" Queenie asked.

Rolf sighed. "Was there a point to this? Other than to briefly make me panic?"

"Of course there was. If you wouldn't have married Luna because I said something like that, then she wasn't the one for you. But if you still would, than she must be. Your wife is someone you have to be able to put before your family, no matter how much you love them. And if you would actually consider breaking my heart for Luna's sake, she's perfect for you."

"I wouldn't enjoy it, of course," Rolf said quickly.

She poked him with her elbow. "You big silly, I know that."

Rolf watched her carefully. "Was that how it was, for you and your, erm, man-friend?"

Queenie had always insisted that if a man could have a lady-friend, she could have a man-friend. There had only ever been the one to Rolf's knowledge, and he had certainly been no boy, and thus, never her boyfriend.

"Oh, no, not even close," Queenie replied. "He and Newt got along famously, even before I came into the picture. If anything, I was the last one of us to start liking him, but only because I met him last. But then, we had an instant connection, so we made up for it. No, getting the family's approval was never really a problem there. Teenie resisted at first, just because she's her, but she came around in the end. He was always good at getting people to like him, without ever really trying at it."

"But... if he was that great, and you loved him..."

"Why didn't I marry him, you mean? He did ask. Several times. But, and this may not make sense to you, I don't think I'm the marrying type. The idea of being his lover appealed to me. His wife, not so much. There are things you'd do for a lover that you wouldn't do for a wife, I think. Or a way that you'd feel about a wife that wouldn't really suit a lover. I think so, anyway."

Rolf frowned. "You're right. I don't agree. I think you would have made a lovely wife, and he had good taste to keep asking."

Queenie smiled and patted his arm. "Thank you, sweetie."

"So I can definitely put you down as attending the wedding?"

"You'd better. I want a good seat. Right next to Luna."

Rolf chuckled. "I'd have to check with her first."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure she'll agree."

* * *

The world was a colorless haze, void of meaning and importance. A simple collection of sights, sounds, and smells that drifted in and out in an endless stream.

It was all so terribly boring.

A test, then, to liven things up.

A soft whine.

And then...

Ah! A response!

The Other, the only Other who remained so close by at all times, responded as he always did. True, time was a near-impossible concept to grasp now, but each time he was called, he responded. Even if that was all he could do.

Even if call was all she could do.

Satisfied, she closed her eyes again, starting to fall back to sleep when a familiar scent jerked her awake. Judging by the rising excitement she sensed from the Other, he smelt it, as well.

Yes, it was here, it was definitely here again, at long last!

The Younger!

* * *

He greeted them with a trembling smile, and as always, they stared at him. They had gotten better at mimicking his expressions, but even this tore a fresh wound open in his heart each time he saw it. He really wished they wouldn't. The blank stares were far more preferable to the empty, meaningless grins.

Even so, he stepped forward, touching them both lightly on their hands.

"Hi, Mum. Hi, Dad." Swallowing hard, Neville Longbottom gave his parents his best grin. "I'm back."

* * *

"Just tell me why!" Neville demanded through his frustrated tears.

Hermione Granger flinched, wanting to comfort him with a hug, but she had been repeatedly rejected with angry shoves. Truth was the only comfort he would accept now. "Neville, please just calm down!"

"Not until you tell me what I want to know!"

"If you're angry about the-"

"NO!" Neville shook his head. "Look, am I happy about that? No! But I understand, Hermione! I get it! But I have to know why... why you didn't... I mean, you never... did you even consider me?"

Her eyes widened. "Oh. Oh, Neville, don't-!"

"I know I'm not all that... impressive, you know, but I... I'd do anything for you guys, so... if you ever needed me, you wouldn't have to do much-"

"Neville, please stop! You don't have all of the information, so you're really just... well, embarrassing yourself! You can't possibly know what all went into this decision, and your, ah... aptitude wasn't a consideration at all. Your loyalty was. And no one would ever _dare_ question your loyalty to us, not in front of me. So... stop, please. That wasn't why. But if you really must know, I'll tell you. Just know that I was trying to protect you from this. I never wanted you to be burdened with this knowledge. Because you're my, our friend, and we would never do anything to hurt you, and you've put yourself in danger's way enough. For us. If it weren't for that stupid prophecy, it's ruined so many lives! I didn't feel right asking this of you, as well. And even if I wanted to, I couldn't have."

Neville hung his head, already suspecting the answer. "Because I'm not good eno-"

Hermione grabbed his arms roughly. "Because they can't overlap, you silly, brave, stupid boy!"

Neville stared at her, his confusion obvious. "I don't... what are you talking about, Hermione? What can't overlap?"

Hermione's face fell. "Harry's mother died for him. That magic... it protected him, kept him alive in times where nothing else could have. Magic that powerful can be... very temperamental. You have to be careful when you're trying to combine with it something similar."

"That makes no sense!" Neville snapped. "That's Harry, not me! What does that have to do with why you didn't pick me?!"

With tears in her eyes, Hermione seized Neville's head in her hands and dragged him forward. She pressed her lips to his ear, whispered the awful truth to him, and hoped that this knowledge would not destroy him.

Harry, at least, could take some comfort in knowing his mother was going to die no matter what she did. There had truly been no choice. She could either leave her child some protection in death, or none at all. No choice at all, not for a loving mother like Lily Potter.

But Neville's parents... they had a choice. The very same choice. Except they hadn't died, and so could not seal their sacrifice with their deaths. So they had used the only thing they could, instead.

* * *

Neville had decided that Hermione was more brilliant than every Healer working at St. Mungo's. Although perhaps the situation was easier to recognize from the inside looking out.

It was Hermione who realized that Neville's parents had used the Cruply Curse. Being famous Aurors who understood the need for secrecy, they had trusted no one with the information. Especially not after the Potters were betrayed.

Their paranoia had both saved their lives and doomed them to insanity.

They could have chosen to die. Neville, as a child at the time, wouldn't have fought them or understood what they were asking. He would have followed his parents blindly into death. His consent would have been automatic.

But as with the Potters, their child dying was unthinkable. So they hadn't thought about it. Never even considered it. It was never an option at all.

So when the Death Eaters came and tortured Neville's parents, no one understood. No one knew why the Longbottoms hadn't been killed.

No one knew that, even if the Death Eaters had wanted them dead, the Longbottoms wouldn't have died. But the Death Eaters hadn't wanted that. They liked their prey squirming. Indeed, killing was the furthest thought from any of their minds. To be able to boast that they had captured the Longbottoms and kept them alive just for sport? To have the once great Aurors splashed across the front of the Daily Prophet as mindless shells? The Ministry would have given almost anything for their safe return. Including any and all knowledge they had on Voldemort's fall. Not that they had very much to begin with. Certainly less than Dumbledore did, anyway.

All of which left Neville and his parents trapped. His mother was Number One, but even she no longer recognized that fact. Which, Hermione feared, made her unpredictable and dangerous. Because either she could no longer gather her thoughts enough to end the curse, or the curse itself would have to determine that she'd had enough.

Which meant, at any moment, it was entirely possible that Neville might simply drop dead of undetermined causes. At least, that was how it would be ruled by others. Even without his consent, he could be overridden by his mother's will, or the curse's desire to claim a set of three victims.

So they could only hope that Alice Longbottom's desire to die continued to remain less than her desire to see her son live.

Hermione's insight was invaluable. She had quickly learned through experience that the curse enhanced one's senses, particularly smell. And indeed, whenever Neville and his grandmother visited, his parents were always looking at them expectantly. And they always, always reacted to them. Particularly to touch, and somewhat to speech. Neville and his grandmother had always embraced them, and he later found out that they were the only two who could. His parents never returned the hugs, but they did lean into them and inhale deeply. And he actually saw his mother push away a female Healer who tried to hug her. Not violently, but firmly enough despite that.

Neville had never noticed any enhanced senses in himself early on, in part because of the unusual way the curse had impacted him. In their desperation, his parents had sacrificed a great deal of magical power. Some of it had been transferred to him, far earlier than his young body was prepared for. He had enormous magical power, far too much for his age at the time. To compensate, his body had greatly limited what he could use, for his own safety. The end result of which was he barely produced any magic at all, at least until he got older and could handle it better. Hermione continually compared his potential to a much delayed bomb finally going off, because it seemed to hit him all at once just before he finished school. When the Ministry learned what he was truly capable of, they'd practically begged him to become an Auror. And for a time, Neville had done just that, making a name for himself in the very same field his parents had. Perhaps it even made him feel closer to their memories.

Because there was really nothing that could make him feel closer to the two people on permanent stay at St. Mungo's. They had been strangers to him even before he knew what a stranger was. There was no fixing that. Once Neville realized that, the joy that he'd found in Auror work dried up, and he simply didn't have the heart for it anymore. His parents had long since been avenged: everyone connected with the crime was dead, Kissed, or both.

The owl from Professor McGonagall, asking him to return to Hogwarts as a teacher, was a lifeline. He would have found something to occupy himself, he was certain, but nothing so rewarding or familiar.

Nothing that felt so much like coming home again. And that, Neville realized, was all he'd been trying to do from the very moment his grandmother first explained to him why he couldn't live with his parents.

* * *

"Well, that was awful," Susan Bones sighed, letting her forehead fall against the counter-top.

"No argument here," Neville agreed, doing the same.

"You should probably at least try to argue. You are a terrible date, Mr. Longbottom."

"The way I remember it, you said your last five dates were awful. I'm seeing a common element, and it isn't me, Ms. Bones."

"You prat," she muttered fondly. "I thought you were nice."

"I am. But I'm much nicer when people haven't unfairly accused me of being an awful date. Anyway, you insisted on dancing, and I told you that I have two rather large left feet. You said it wouldn't matter."

"Well, me and my aching toes have been proven wrong. Happy now?"

"I would be much happier if now were tomorrow morning, and we were waking up in my bed, and you were telling me that there would definitely be a next date. But for now, considering you haven't poured that butterbeer over my head, I'll say I'm not totally unhappy."

Susan lifted her head long enough to glare at him. "Why couldn't you have said something that lovely before we went on that awful date?"

Neville laughed. "I've actually tried it before. And let me tell you, that's how I know exactly what a drink poured over my head feels like."

"Sure, but then I would have offered to help you clean up, in the shower."

"Seriously?"

"Probably not. But I bet I'd have chosen a fun shower over getting my toes stomped on."

"Again, dancing was your idea. By any chance, was that also a common element on your other awful dates?"

"Yeah, but the last one was a great dancer. It's just that he seemed to think that also entitled him to a night in my bed. And it actually might have, if only he hadn't opened his fat, stupid mouth and told me so first."

"So close, and yet so far," Neville chuckled.

Susan pointed at him without lifting her head. "Shut up, Bottom."

"Make me, Anti-Boner."

"Oy! You're not allowed to make jokes like that after you've admitted to imagining me in your bed!"

"Fair enough. I apologize, Skin 'n' Bones."

"Much better. You actually might stand a chance of getting me in your bed, after all. Just not tonight."

"So no point in getting you another drink?" Neville asked.

"Of course there is. More credit on the next date, and you will need it." Susan waved weakly to summon the blonde woman behind the bar. "Abby luv! Gigglewater for the both of us, and keep it coming. You have no idea how much I need a laugh right now."

Neville did a double take as the woman came over with the drinks. " _You're_ not Tom," he said at once.

"If you're drunk enough to mistake me for old Tom, you are cut off for the night," she snorted. "Although maybe we should try for the month instead."

Neville shook his head. "You're also not Abby. You're Hannah Abbott."

Susan poked him in the arm. "It's a nickname and I gave it to her, Bottom. You should try it sometime."

"So instead of 'Han' or even 'Anna', you go with _that_?"

"I pride myself on never being that obvious," Susan replied. She finally raised her head, and her glass. "To Bottom! Who wishes he had been a 'Puff, but instead got stuck in Gryffindor, with that bunch of scarlet women and Weasleys!"

"I'm not sure I can drink to that," Neville said.

"Are you going to try and tell me that Hermione and Harry don't both have Weasley babies?"

"No, I just meant that Gryffindor obviously didn't get all the scarlet women, if a bloke can have you for a round on the dance floor-"

Susan threw her glass at him. Neville caught the glass and the contents in mid-air by pointing at them, then levitated it all back to the counter without spilling a drop.

"I'm glad one of you isn't out to lose me glasses," Hannah sniffed. "This round is on me, Neville." She glared at Susan. "But you can pay double, Sooz."

"Why don't you marry Bottom if you love him so much!" Susan snapped.

Hannah gave Neville a long, considering look that he was completely unprepared for. "Hmm. I'd need a test drive first. You free tomorrow night, Neville?"

"Um, sure," Neville murmured, blinking slowly.

"Oy! What happened to trying to get me into your bed tomorrow?!" Susan demanded.

"That was before you threw a drink at me and didn't ask me to shower after."

"You didn't need a shower, it never even touched you! And I never said I was done with you yet, Bottom!"

"Well, I say you are," Hannah said firmly, "especially since you still haven't paid me yet. So we'll just call it even once you've watched the bar for me while I go on my date tomorrow night."

Susan pouted at her. "Fine, but if he asks you into bed before the date, you absolutely cannot say yes!"

Neville felt slightly guilty, three hours later, when Hannah collapsed on top of him with a huge grin on her face. Although technically, he hadn't asked her into bed. She had invited and insisted, without him saying anything.

"I think this may make you a lousy friend," he pointed out, gently twirling a finger in her hair.

"But an excellent judge of men," Hannah noted. "I got over it when the last three guys I fancied preferred my best friend instead. She can get over you just fine." She giggled and laid her head on his shoulder. "By the way, don't tell Sooz I told you so, but if she really fancied you, she would have slept with you before the date, same as I did. So I'm rather glad she didn't."

"Maybe I really am a Hufflepuff man. Just not in the way I first imagined."

Hannah propped herself up on her elbow and stared at him. "That's cute, but you just make sure that you're a one-'Puff-woman man, Nev. I am definitely not done with you, and you can expect far worse than a drink in your face if you ever step out on me."

"Well, I won't pretend that the thought of you two fighting over me isn't exciting, but I think I'll make the sacrifice and stick with you, thanks. Your bestie is a little too wild for me. I just hope I can let her down gently."

"Uh, no, you will tell her to sod off because you're with me. She'll understand."

Neville grinned. "And you're sure she won't take it personally and try to ruin the wedding? Since you love me so much that you're going to marry me, I mean."

Hannah smirked. "You let me worry about the wedding, Nev. You just have to keep impressing me long enough to get us there."

Susan, as it turned out, was far less broken up about the union than Neville feared she might be. In fact, she took credit for introducing them to each other, which was not strictly true, but Neville preferred that attitude to one that revolved around plotting their destruction. There had been a time when he feared that, due to her family's tragic demise, Susan might be overly sensitive, but she had rid him of that notion almost immediately. To the contrary, she claimed she got tired of being sensitive, and now spent as much of her time living it up as she possibly could, for her dead family's sake. Between the collection of tattoos he'd spotted on her, and her relaxed attitude toward men and especially ones she hadn't dated yet, Neville was convinced that she was indeed having enough fun for six or seven people.

* * *

Neville had given up on trying to understand how Luna Lovegood's mind worked a long time ago. And yet, when he found her asleep with her head in his mother's lap one Christmas morning, he understood perfectly what she'd been thinking.

He simply sat down to wait, watching his mother play with Luna's hair.

After an hour or so, Luna woke up, saw him, and started to apologize.

"It's okay," Neville said at once. "You just needed to be with someone's mother today."

She smiled, or at least tried to. "My Daddy's dead, Neville."

Neville blinked. "I'm so sorry, Luna. I didn't know."

"Thanks. I haven't told anyone else yet."

He wasn't sure what to do with that information. "Can I owl someone for you?"

"Not just yet. I'd rather spend Christmas with you and your family, if you'll have me."

Neville stared at her, giving her a chance to change her mind. People almost always did.

Luna stared back at him expectantly. For almost a whole minute.

Finally, Neville smiled, a little uncertainly. "Of course we will."

Luna beamed at him. "Great. I'm sure I brought enough socks for everyone."

Neville started to respond, then thought about what she'd actually said. "Wait, what?"

* * *

Neville sighed deeply, laying his head on his mother's shoulder. She immediately leaned against him, the weight of her head comforting against his own.

"I need to tell you something, Mum," he said softly. "You, too, Dad."

His father stared blankly at them, matching Neville's grim expression.

"I met someone. A wonderful woman. Well, she grew into one, anyway. Back at school, she kind of just went with the flow and stayed within her own little group, but I can think of several who did far worse there. Anyway, we ran into each other not too long ago, and next thing you know, we're dating and making grand plans, and I... I think I'm going to marry her soon."

His father continued to stare. His mother began to hum, softly. It had no real rhythm, and it was no tune that Neville had ever heard. He expected no one else in the world ever had, either.

"I realize I can't ask for your blessing, and bringing her to meet you might not be for the best. She's offered, though, and I suppose it must be done, eventually, if we're actually going to do this thing. But I've given this a lot of thought, and though Hermione doesn't agree at all, I think I owe it to you. It's your magic that's protected me all this time. I can't give it back to you, but... I think I can give you a way to bow out gracefully, on your own terms."

Neville slowly stood up, knelt to the floor between his parents, and lowered his head. "Number Three submits himself to your wishes, whatever they may be." Then he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and waited to die.

* * *

She recognized the Younger's gesture of submission, but did not understand the purpose of it.

There was nothing they could give him.

And she knew, instinctively, that this was the only place in which their respective worlds could overlap. Even though he could be trusted above all others, even though his scent and face haunted her thoughts enough when he was gone that she knew what that must mean, they were too different. The worlds they resided in were too different.

Even so, she could see that the Younger was growing, in both form and power. She, on the other hand, had sensed a slow but certain decline in her own form, and especially in the Other's. As her constant companion, her only companion, she felt a certain responsibility to him, and even there, she was all but powerless. Beyond wasting away beside him, what else could she offer him?

Even so, the Younger continued to return to them, over and over again. She could not pretend that their mere presence was enough. She could feel the pain in every gesture, sound, and movement that he made. And they were the source, even if she had no idea why or how. And if all they could do was bring pain to the Younger, were they necessary at all? Was this the reward for his loyalty?

There had to be something she could give him. And there was.

* * *

When Neville felt the hands on his head, he tensed, expecting the end to come.

Instead, the hands began to tug. He opened his eyes wide and stood up as his mother grasped his head, drawing him closer. He automatically raised his arms to hug her, but something in her face told him that this was not her goal.

With a sudden jerk, her head snapped up, exposing her pale neck, and she drew him closer still, pressing his face into her neck. There was no affection in the act, however, and it took a few seconds for Neville to realize why that was.

"Oh, Mum," he whispered, unable to stop the tears that fell from his eyes. He tried to pull back, but her grip was suddenly like steel. She wasn't going to release him, until and unless he made the choice she was seeking.

There was nothing for it. With a shuddering breath, Neville leaned in and gently kissed his mother's neck. Then he threw his arms around her.

She allowed this, for a moment. But then, she slid from his embrace and joined his father on the floor. Both lowered their heads, staring at the floor.

Neville wanted, more than anything in the world at that moment, to join them and throw his arms around them both. But as he moved, new memories began to flood into his head.

He saw his mother, holding hands and laughing with Lily Potter.

He saw his mother, weeping as Lily's corpse was levitated past her.

He saw his mother, a silver light shining in her eyes as she disarmed a masked Death Eater.

And after he shook his head to clear it, Neville was greeted by the very real sight of his parents, dead at his feet.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "that you had to wait so long. Just a little longer now."

* * *

With one child in the house and firm plans for another in the near future, Hermione jerking awake to the slightest sound was nothing new. Nor was her finding that Ron had not reacted at all, or her having to resist the urge to kick him awake in her envy.

Waking up to a smell was a bit different. This smell in particular, because Hermione had not breathed it in, at least in such a strong dose, in quite some time.

It was the smell of death. She knew that as firmly as she also knew that it was coming from no one currently in the house.

And if she needed any further proof, by the time she'd gotten out of bed and thrown on some proper clothing, Roonil appeared at her side with his signature CRACK.

"Is it Luna?" Hermione demanded at once. "Did something go wrong with the curse?"

Roonil stared at her for a few seconds, his expression revealing nothing, and vanished as abruptly as he'd come.

Hermione stared at the spot he'd been standing in, but when he did not return immediately, she understood what must have happened. Luna had woken up in a similar manner, and sent Roonil to check on her, but with strict instructions to return once he'd confirmed whether Hermione was dead or alive. This would no doubt reassure Luna, but it didn't help Hermione one bit.

At least, until Hermione realized that she would know instantly if it were Ron or Harry dying. And if she and Luna were in no danger, there could only be one other person who might be that they would both be able to detect.

Knowing she could waste no time, Hermione leaned over Ron and woke him with a kiss. She was both touched and annoyed when he automatically reached up to pull her down to him in order to do a bit more than kiss. It was nice to know that her husband still found her attractive, but he really couldn't have picked a worse time for it.

"Ron, I need you to watch Rose," Hermione commanded, planting a hand on Ron's chest to stop his advance. "Neville's in trouble, I'm going to check on him."

Ron blinked and glanced over at the crib in the corner, where their young daughter was sleeping peacefully. "Watch her do what, exactly?" he asked.

Hermione could not decide if he was still half-asleep or trying to be funny, but she had no time for either. "Go wake up Ginny if you have any problems." This would not endear Hermione to Ginny at all, but on the other hand, Ginny would surely gladly lose some sleep, rather than risk leaving her niece in Ron's care. Which was unfair in that it was less because he was male, and more because he was Ron.

"Details might be nice," Ron said pointedly as he sat up.

"Yes, they would, wouldn't they?" Hermione murmured in agreement. Then she raised her wand. "Expecto patronum!"

A large, silver, three-tailed Crup erupted from the tip of her wand and landed lightly on the floor in front of her. It turned to her at once, hopping in place with obvious excitement.

Hermione knelt down and touched its head. "Neville, whatever you're doing? STOP IT RIGHT NOW. I'm on my way." She narrowed her eyes at the Crup. "Got all that?"

With an odd, echoing back, the Crup turned and leaped through the wall, vanishing from view.

* * *

Luna generally had no use for post owls. Roonil had long since met anyone she would have owled, and he was happy to deliver her messages, or Luna herself, in person. In addition, elf Apparition was much faster, and even if owls were better at finding a person's exact location, an elf was much more capable of defending itself, should the message or messenger come under attack. Not to mention, Luna had access to several animals that both could track a person's scent and did not mind Roonil's method of transport.

And once she became cursed, Luna became a witch who both could track a person's scent and did not mind Roonil's method of transport. And she had never needed to find someone more than she needed to find Neville at the moment.

St. Mungo's was the second place they checked, and though Luna found Neville's scent both entering and leaving, she did go inside long enough to confirm that he had visited his parents earlier that night. What she hadn't expected was to also be told that they had just died... and that Neville hadn't died with them. That was odd enough, and it did at least hint at what Neville's current state of mind might be. It did not explain how he had survived the curse, or why the curse claimed only two lives instead of the expected three.

Unless the curse just hadn't claimed Neville yet, but would very soon. That would explain why the stink of death clung to him, strong enough where it could be detected. Not just because he had been there when his parents died, but because he would soon follow them. And the one thing that Luna could say for certain about Neville, no matter how bleak his life seemed to him at times, was that he had never wanted to die. Feared it, yes, even expected it, and sometimes came bravely and dangerously close to it, but not once had he expressed a desire to actually do it.

And it was impossible that Neville himself both could not detect the scent he was currently giving off, and didn't know what it meant. Yet he had not reached out to Hermione, who was easily the most knowledgeable person that they both had easy access to, and was similarly cursed.

All of which led Luna to two dreadful conclusions: Neville was not in his right state of mind, and he didn't want to be saved. And Luna had a growing suspicion that neither was Neville's fault or desire, which only made the situation all the more dangerous.

* * *

Hermione's Crup Patronus arrived first, touching down on the shoreline and springing at Neville, only to crash into the magical barrier he had erected around himself. After trying and failing to pass twice more, the Crup simply repeated Hermione's message. Its task done, Neville waited for the Patronus to fade.

Instead, it pulsed brightly for a few seconds, and then exploded, revealing a furious Hermione among the glittering particles.

Neville blinked in surprise, and then smirked. Leave it to Hermione to figure out a way to Apparate to her Patronus's exact location, despite having no idea where it had ended up. It was a shame, he would have liked to know how she'd done it.

"I'm _quite_ sure I told you not to do anything, Neville," Hermione said as calmly as she could. "This," she continued, gesturing at the barrier, "definitely looks like anything to me."

Neville stared at her. "You assume that I'm taking orders from you."

Hermione stared back, a little surprised. "It wasn't-" she began, then stopped. Her eyes narrowed. "You're _not_ Neville."

He grinned. "That didn't take you long. What gave it away?"

"Neville would never do anything this stupid if someone else wasn't in danger. And he would never talk to me that way."

"You mean he does usually accept your orders without question."

Hermione grimaced. "You know that isn't true."

"How would I know that?"

"Because even though you aren't Neville, exactly... that is his body. And you're not exactly foreign to it, are you? Or at least not unwelcome. He isn't fighting you."

"Oh, very good, Hermione. Top marks, as usual. But I'm afraid knowing the situation doesn't change it."

"I won't let you kill him!" Hermione shouted.

"I don't recall giving you a choice." His voice abruptly became much colder. "A life is owed. You know the terms. Always three, Hermione. I didn't think you'd needed to be reminded."

"The terms are that all three must agree, and Neville didn't! And even if he had, his parents couldn't! Their minds are-"

"Gone? Oh, you disappoint me, Hermione. I thought you'd have figured it out by now."

With a sudden loud CRACK, Roonil appeared with Luna at his side.

"How did you get here so fast?" Luna asked.

"I've had a long time to study the Deluminator, and how the curse changed me," Hermione replied. "As with most things Dumbledore left us, it's not impossible to figure out, if you're willing to devote enough time to it."

He laughed. "You spent all that time studying how the curse changed you. Did you ever stop to think how it must have changed Frank and Alice Longbottom?"

"Of course I did!" Hermione snapped. "But, with their minds already gone, the changes-"

"But they weren't gone," Luna disagreed. "Muted or dimmed, but not gone. Not totally. If that were the case, they wouldn't have been able to move at all. And they knew Neville, somewhat. Or at least reacted to him more than anyone else."

"Now, think carefully, you two, because it's far too late to find the answer now," he said in a teasing tone. "How much of what you just described do you think the Longbottoms were capable of entirely by themselves, and how much was me... helping them?"

Luna frowned, and Hermione gasped in horror.

"It can't be!" Hermione cried. "This whole time, it was... it couldn't have been you!"

He smirked. "You're so sure of that, are you? Even though you were just a baby at the time? Even though we just established that you mistakenly assumed their minds were gone? You still think you're the authority here? You came to me for help, Hermione, not the other way around. You've learned more than most, but don't think for even a second that you know everything I'm capable of."

"What are you saying?" Luna asked. "That Neville's parents haven't had an original thought in their heads since they were tortured? That it was all you, animating them like puppets? Why would you do that?"

"What is the purpose of the curse, Luna? To live. Are you telling me that lying in a bed, unable to recognize yourself or anything around you, is living? Do you really think that's why they cursed themselves? And do you think me so cruel as to allow them to exist that way for so long? You ask, why I would do it? I ask, how could I not? I did what I could, what I had to, with what little I had to work with. I gave Neville what few bittersweet memories of his parents I could scrape together. Don't you realize that they were strangers to him without that? Just two bodies in beds. At least this way, he dies with something of them, rather than nothing at all."

Luna shook her head slowly. "I'm hardly one to judge, no one who took on this curse is. Even so... it was fake. All those precious memories you gave Neville, they aren't real. Or at least, they weren't from his parents."

"How dare you?" he whispered angrily. "Who held you when your father died, Luna? Was that not real? Did the comfort I gave you then feel fake? Neville pledged himself to me tonight. Would he do that if he felt I was not authentic? You just can't accept that I have been more his parent all his life than Frank and Alice were for the little time they had him. Neville belongs to me, to us. He has for years now. And it's time for all four of us to go home."

"If you truly cared for Neville, you wouldn't do this to him!" Hermione argued. "If you truly think of yourself as his parent, you should want him to live!"

"I won't deny it, that would normally be the case. But I don't expect anyone else to understand. You must accept it, however. I'm not giving you a choice here. There is nothing you can do to stop this."

"Why didn't you just kill Neville along with his parents, then?" Luna asked.

"Luna, no!" Hermione gasped.

Luna ignored her. "That would have been the simplest way. In fact, according to your rules, it's both the standard, and one of the only ways he should be able to die. So why didn't he? It's because you made an exception for him, your beloved child. You couldn't kill him right away, could you? Why is that? What are you waiting for?"

He stared at her, and for a long moment, it looked like he wouldn't answer. "I thought he deserved a chance to say goodbye."

Hermione frowned. "Then why didn't you let him contact us?"

"I never said it was you he'd be saying goodbye to, did I?"

"You're... waiting for someone other than us?" Hermione asked in shock.

Luna seemed surprised as well. "And you believe this person Neville cares for would be willing to let him go?"

He shook his head. "Whether she is willing or not, he deserves a chance."

Hermione looked even more confused, but Luna was pleased with the response.

"So you won't be doing anything with Neville until she's had a chance to see him," Luna concluded. "Which means we've got some time to try and break your grip on him."

Hermione looked startled by this suggestion, but soon smiled. "Brilliant, Luna!"

He chuckled. "There is no way for you to break the bond between-"

Luna stretched out her hand. "Roonil? My ring, please."

Roonil produced a simple ring with what looked like a violently pink gem on it. Hermione strongly suspected that it was invented with the sole purpose of clashing horribly with every color in existence. Roonil passed the ring to Luna, who slipped it onto her finger, admired it for a few seconds, and then pointed it, somewhat threateningly, at Neville's body.

"Hermione, you will need to apply a Silencing Charm to your immediate area until I signal you to end it," Luna instructed.

"What are you going to do to him?" Hermione asked warily.

"Tell me what you recall about the Swooping Evil?" Luna requested.

Hermione tensed at once. "It's a magical creature that eats human brains. Surely that's not-?"

"No, of course not. Now, you remember the Fwooper?"

Hermione tensed even more. "It's a bird who can cause insanity in those who hear its song for too long. Luna, what-?"

"Not to worry, I don't have either of those with me. Newt wouldn't have allowed it."

Hermione did not relax, figuring that it wasn't safe to, considering this was Luna and that she'd likely brought up two awful-sounding creatures for a reason.

"He did, however, allow me to cross-breed them, once I explained why I wanted to."

"And that would be because?"

Luna smiled pleasantly at her. "No one in their right mind would. Charm now, please."

Hermione immediately applied the Silencing Charm.

Seconds later, the gem on Luna's ring unfolded, revealing that it was actually a tiny butterfly. It appeared to do nothing more than calmly flap its wings, and yet the effects were tremendous.

Neville's body began convulsing wildly, even as he struggled to clamp his hands over his ears. It was pointless, Hermione knew. The curse's enhanced senses meant that his hearing was superior to a human's, and therefore even more susceptible to this type of attack.

It only lasted a few seconds, but by the end, Neville's body had collapsed into a trembling pile on the ground. The butterfly returned to its gem form, and Luna returned the ring to Roonil. Only then did she signal Hermione, who removed the charm.

"Newt insists on calling it the Shrieking Deadly Evil," Luna sighed, pouting a bit. "I haven't the faintest idea why."

"May I assume that wasn't fatal?" Hermione asked mildly.

"Not in such a small dose," Luna replied, confirming Hermione's suspicions. "But it should easily disrupt-"

Neville's body twitched, and then took on a silver glow.

"It worked?" Hermione asked in shock.

"As much as it could, anyway." Neville's body slowly stood up. And then silver glow expanded, took form, stood up, and slowly stepped away from him. It was an enormous Patronus, shaped like two-headed Crup. Its eyes were totally white and unseeing, but its noses worked just fine: it sniffed first in Luna's direction, then Hermione's. Whatever it smelled, it must not have been pleased, because it began to growl softly.

"Is that what I think it is?" Hermione whispered.

Neville's body grinned and gestured to the Patronus. "Don't be rude, ladies. Say hello to Mum and Dad."

* * *

Following the fall of Voldemort, there had been a rather expected baby boom. People weren't as afraid to bring children into a world that no longer included the Dark Lord. What was a bit less expected, at least by most humans, was for that baby boom to also hit elves. But in their case, it was less because Voldemort was gone, and more because Harry Potter, the most famous wizard of his generation by far, had proven himself a friend to all elves.

First, there had been Dobby, who Harry set free, and who died protecting Harry, but had spread word of his goodness far and wide before that.

Then, there had been Kreacher, who admittedly hated Harry at one time, but had eventually changed his tune when Harry did him a great service. And this, despite the fact that Kreacher had happily contributed to the events that claimed the life of Harry's godfather. Kreacher, too, endlessly told the tale of the only wizard who had seen fit to restore his previous master's locket to him.

The combination of two drastically different elves telling the same stories about Harry meant that precious few elves doubted them. And it was easy enough to find evidence.

The location of Dobby's grave was well-known to most elves. Indeed, the owners of Shell Cottage had erected helpful signposts to point the way, and were happy to share their memories of Harry.

The Ministry of Magic's Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, which had once had an Office for House-Elf Relocation, now instead had been Granger-ized (an actual popular term, much to Hermione's combined pleasure and embarrassment) and included the Elf Liberation Foundation (or E.L.F.), which in turn housed the Free Elf Museum, which chronicled the contributions of elves to elvish and wizard society. It was a small museum, but very accurate despite that. And at the main exit of that museum, strategically placed so that only visitors who went all the way through would see it, was a list of people and establishments willing to hire free elves who didn't mind being treated humanely.

Hogwarts was first on the list, followed immediately by the Leaky Cauldron. Hannah Abbott had only discovered this when, among the things old Tom had to get her used to, was the elf who worked with him. An elf named Julius Cedric Diggory.

Not surprisingly, many of the people willing to hire free elves were Harry's former classmates, a few of whom had either been helped by or had known Dobby personally. Aside from that, any living Hogwarts student or teacher had eaten food prepared by elves, which was now common knowledge, thanks in part to the museum.

So among the elvish baby boomers were many young elves named after historical Hogwarts figures, and, increasingly, Cedric Diggory. Hufflepuffs seemed to gravitate toward elf liberation more than any other Hogwarts House, perhaps attempting to live up to their founder's attitude of acceptance for all. Cedric and Dobby had both been killed by Death Eaters, and Harry was quoted more than once as saying they were amomg the losses that haunted him the most. Clearly, many people and elves never forgot that. Enough, in fact, that a trend surfaced of naming elves after months of the year and Cedric Diggory. So it was not unusual to run into Septimus Cedric Diggory IV or Augustus Aprilius Cedric Diggory.

What was unusual was how large elf broods suddenly were. Once recorded at an average of two or three children, suddenly there was almost no young elf with less than ten siblings of the same age. And most of them were being raised with a very specific set of beliefs: that freedom was a choice, and that there were wizards and witches who would help them defend whatever side of the choice an elf found most appealing.

All of which created the unique situation of nearly an entire generation of elves who did not inherit the same status of their parents, but instead existed in a murky area which only became clear when they made a choice. And while almost every elf chose a life of service to humans in some way, and some of them even desired brutal conditions, more and more, elves could be seen working alongside human employees. And it was rather easy to determine the employer's beliefs by the state of their elf.

The days of the invisible house-elf that no one gave a second thought to were coming to an end. The days of the free elf, or as some became known, the business elves, were on the rise.

Roonil Wazlib was indeed considered odd in his family, but only because his choice of dress included old issues of The Quibbler fastened together by liberal amounts of Spellotape. The only bad feelings he had to endure from his siblings was jealousy that he had managed to enter Luna's service first, and she was content with one elf.

Incidentally, it was Roonil's oldest brother, one Julius Cedric Diggory, who received the owl that Neville, or someone wearing Neville's body, had sent from St. Mungo's to the Leaky Cauldron. Since the letter was not addressed to Julius, he took it to the intended person, watched them read it, and witnessed their reaction to the letter's contents. And unlike so many elves before him, Julius decided he needed to do something drastic, without getting permission for it first.

* * *

The tricky thing about being friends with Hermione, Luna had come to realize, was to recognize when it was best to go along with her, and when it was best to challenge her opinion. Even harder, Hermione was right so often, it could be incredibly diffcult to distinguish between what she knew to be right, and what she believed to be right. But the difference was all-important, because it set the tone of the friendship. Hermione had friends she argued with often, and friends she almost never argued with, but the friends she treasured most were the only ones who had found the perfect balance and could tell her, without fear of too much wrath, to shut up.

Luna was never so direct, but she had mastered the art of abruptly hugging Hermione mid-sentence, and they both knew what that meant. Luna's reputation for the odd and unexplained allowed Hermione to save face, and Hermione preferred the hugs to the words.

Since they were currently staring down an enormous Patronus, however, large movements were ill-advised, and even Luna would have had second thoughts about doing something unpredictable. If for no other reason than the curse they both shared, in the interest of its own survival, was screaming at them not to take the risk, and they were listening.

And yet, being two very different women, they reached different conclusions.

Hermione decided that they needed to stall, and the best way was to meet force with force. She immediately summoned her own Patronus, although it only vaguely resembled the happy, three-tailed Crup that it had been before. This one was a three-headed Crup which towered over her, tossing its heads angrily and flashing its teeth in three fearsome mouths. This Patronus, someone might have actually mistaken for Fluffy without being laughed at. Although if Fluffy's body now bore lightning-shaped scars as this one did, Hermione would have felt very sorry for him, for a change. This was a beast whose sole purpose was to fight, and it did just that, launching itself at the other Patronus in a whirlwind of teeth and claws.

Luna saw at once that Hermione was stalling, and while that might have helped in the long run, this was not a problem to be solved by violence. And yet Luna could not deny that her Shrieking Deadly Evil had been effective, but that had been precisely applied violence. And in any case, if the Patronus threatening them did indeed represent the combined souls of Neville's parents, Luna absolutely did not want to hurt them anymore. Hermione must have at least suspected that, but Luna could understand why she hadn't agreed.

Hermione was a mother, and one who had every intention of surviving and returning home to her husband and daughter. She had a family to protect, one that in her mind included Neville, but no longer included his parents. She was not going to be gentle with them, if it meant losing herself or him.

She hadn't spent Christmas with them. And her parents were still alive. She couldn't know, and there was no time to make her understand.

"I would like to talk to Neville, please," Luna announced.

Neville's body stared at her. "No."

"I don't see what reason you have to refuse. You aren't going to do anything until Neville hears back from this person he cares for, and you are confident we can do nothing to stop you. What could it hurt? And you should know that we care for Neville, too. We would also like to say goodbye."

He winced, shaking his head slightly, but Luna could see a silver ring emerging in his left eye, and a red ring in his right eye. That was all she needed to know for sure.

"I know you can hear me, Neville. I don't know if you're fighting this, or if you've somehow gotten it into your head that you need to die now. But Hermione and I are both here because we want you to stay. I don't pretend that's equal to your parents, but I'd like to think that you consider us family, too. I certainly feel that way about you. I was rather hoping that if I ever got married, you would be the one to give me away. Harry would do it, I'm sure, but he wouldn't want his presence to overshadow mine, and anyway, I wanted you." After a pause, she added thoughtfully, "Maybe Hermione would be willing to name her next child after you."

Hermione gave Luna a wild look. "He might see that as more of a reason for him to be dead first, so let's think of something else, shall we?!"

At that moment, something large, black, and winged crashed into the barrier around Neville's body. Because of its erratically flapping wings and curious roundness, it put Luna and Hermione in mind of a misshapen owl. Neville's body, however, seemed to recognize it at once, but he also seemed rather startled by its presence.

Abruptly, the flying object froze and started to rapidly melt, revealing a human-shaped core within. It only proved to actually be human when it started shouting.

"I AM GOING TO MURDER YOU, NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM!"

Hermione and Luna were both shocked when Susan Bones stomped out of the black liquid, which was still rapidly being absorbed back into her body.

"Susan?" Hermione asked. "Susan Bones, is that you? Why are you-?"

"Hi, Hermione, Luna," Susan said crisply, barely even looking at them. "Excuse me, I need to murder someone now, be right with you."

"No, wait!" Hermione protested. "We're trying to save Neville! You can't-!"

Susan shot her a withering look that instantly made Hermione fall silent.

"Perhaps we should be asking why Susan would want to kill Neville. What was in that letter that you sent to Susan?" Luna asked of Neville's body.

"Didn't send it to her," Neville's body muttered.

Luna blinked. "Then she isn't your precious person? The one you wanted to say goodbye to?"

Susan snorted. "Oh, he's definitely going to be saying goodbye to me very soon. Except he'll be screaming it, on account of how many pieces he's going to be in!" Susan was suddenly coated from head to toe in the same black liquid, only this time the form it shaped itself into was far more threatening.

For a wild moment, Hermione thought her old classmate had actually turned into a Dementor before her eyes. Three things convinced her otherwise, though. The hooded form growing before her was both too solid and far too tall to be mistaken for a Dementor, and its skeletal hand was gripping an impossibly long scythe with a glowing, white blade. This was no Dementor, but a reaper.

Neville's body made no move to run, so for a moment, Hermione dared to hope that Susan would also be unable to hurt him. But then the reaper flicked its wrist in a lightning-fast motion, and suddenly Neville's body was tumbling bonelessly end over end, though amazingly, still in one piece. He crashed to the ground hard, but had no time to recover as the scythe slammed into him a second time, pounding him into the sand.

Though Hermione was horrified, she still recognized that something was very strange about the attack. There was no doubt that the scythe was striking Neville's body every time, sometimes with the blade and sometimes with the handle, and he clearly was not enjoying it. But there was no blood, no bruises, no flying body parts. In short, there was no physical evidence of the attack at all. And yet it was clear that whatever barrier Neville's body had thought would protect him had failed against Susan's reaper.

The reaper could damage him, just as Luna's attack had.

With a start, Hermione realized what she was seeing. Susan was somehow attacking the curse possessing Neville's body, and avoiding damaging Neville's body entirely. And even the very idea should have been impossible. For one thing, Susan should have had to know about the curse in order to target it, or else it would have hidden itself from her. It was possible that the letter that Susan had intercepted had admitted the existence of the curse, but if it wasn't intended for her, anything relating to the curse should not have been visible to her eyes.

Unless it was intended for her.

Hermione frowned as she watched Neville's body, with all its instincts honed by Dumbledore's Army and then Auror training, simply take the attacks, making no move to avoid them.

He wanted Susan to kill him, and it certainly seemed as if she wanted to. But if she wanted to kill Neville, why use an attack that wasn't hurting him, but the curse instead? Anyone with a complete Hogwarts education like Susan could have performed any number of damaging spells that would prove lethal with the proper force and application, and most of them would both certainly kill Neville and yet not impact the curse at all.

"It's love," Luna suddenly said softly.

Oddly enough, Hermione knew almost instantly what Luna meant, perhaps because the idea of weaponized love, in the form of Lily Potter's protective charm for Harry, was familiar enough to her. Despite its fearsome appearance, Susan's reaper was also attacking with love. And yet, somehow, Hermione seriously doubted that love was for Neville. Because even if Susan didn't really want him dead, she had absolutely no problem with attacking him, so at the very least, she was quite cross with him.

And Hermione was starting to suspect that she knew why. There were really only a few substantial things that she knew about Susan. First and foremost, her entire family had been murdered by Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Hermione recalled Susan as a quiet, often solemn Hufflepuff. She had few friends, but at least one of them had been by her side almost constantly. The late Bones family was held in high regard, both by the Ministry and the Order of the Phoenix, and some time after the death of Susan's aunt Amelia, her last living relative, Hermione knew that Kingsley Shacklebolt, the current Minister for Magic, had taken a personal interest in Susan. Exactly what this meant was unclear, but it was always assumed that it was Kingsley's way of honoring Amelia's memory, considering that, had she survived, odds were good that she would have been his predecessor. Hermione had never seen Susan at the Ministry, but she had heard Kingsley mutter, somewhat fondly of Susan, "That girl is a walking nightmare." Most of the Hufflepuffs that Hermione knew from school and was still in contact with agreed that Susan had become something of a wild child. They all agreed on something else, as well: that Hannah Abbott would be the expert on Susan, as they had remained best friends since their days at Hogwarts. And Hermione could not imagine a single living person that Susan might love more than Hannah.

Scowling, Hermione abruptly directed her Patronus to abandon the fight against Neville's, had it bound over to his body and drag him away from the reaper's latest swipe, and deposit him at her feet. "Neville, you prat, what did you do to Hannah?" she demanded. "What was in that letter?"

He glared up at her, though his gaze was unfocused at best. "It's none of your-"

Hermione kicked him in the face. She hadn't thought it would bring about the desired result, but when he righted himself, his nose was bleeding, and there was no trace of a ring in either of his eyes. It was definitely Neville, for the moment. The curse had clearly had it with being attacked, and desired a rest.

"That hurt," Neville murmured.

"It was supposed to," Hermione said mildly. "Are you going to answer me about Hannah, or not?"

Neville stared warily at the reaper, which had moved closer, but at least wasn't attacking.

Hermione sighed. "Susan, could you come out of that thing, please? You're not making this conversation any easier, and if Neville actually deserves what you were trying to do to him, I'll even help you do it."

"You will not!" The reaper melted away, and Susan stomped over, glaring at Neville. "It's got to be me, and no one else, Hermione, so you can just back off!"

"I think they want to hear the rest of the story, too," Luna said.

Hermione and Susan stared.

Luna was standing calmly beside Neville's Patronus, which was sniffing her and had lost all desire to attack. Roonil was keeping his distance, but appeared ready to defend Luna if needed.

"This is one of those mad things that will make no sense to me no matter how many questions I ask, isn't it?" Susan muttered.

"Actually," Hermione disagreed, "I think you'd understand it perfectly, Susan. But for now, I think why you want Neville hurt or dead is a good place to start."

Susan scowled. "Well, to start with, this great git sends a letter to my best friend, saying he's going off to die and that he'll miss her terribly. That was bad enough by itself and reduced her to a sobbing wreck."

Hermione was somewhat relieved to see Neville wince.

"Only then, while she's shoving stuff into a bag like mad so she can race off to stop him, she finds a ring box mixed among her things. There was no note, but it was pretty safe to assume that Neville intended to propose to her tonight. At least, before he changed his mind and decided to die." Susan shook her head, wiping away a few tears. "I've never heard her shriek like that, it was as if a bomb went off. Then it actually did, she blew up the entire second floor of the Leaky Cauldron. If Julius hadn't been there to tidy up the place-"

"Julius Cedric Diggory?" Luna interrupted.

Susan blinked. "Yeah, that's him."

"Who?" Hermione asked, though she thought she already knew.

"The elf who works there. He's Roonil's big brother," Luna explained.

Hermione frowned. "So, Susan, you want to punish Neville for walking out on Hannah?"

"That's one reason, yes," Susan growled.

"There's another?"

"Yes, and it's rather personal, so I won't be discussing it with you."

"Fair enough," Hermione allowed, "but do you actually want to kill him? Would Hannah want that for either of you?"

"If he's so determined to die, I'd rather it be by my hand than his. If he would actually abandon Hannah this way, there's no way I'm taking him back to her. And as for Hannah, she won't know. She's actually so distraught that she gave me permission to put a Memory Charm on her. So I'll kill him, erase her memory of this night, and then she'll never need know that she fell in love with a bloody plonker who would kill himself on the same night he was supposed to propose to her. I'll be protecting my best friend, and we'll both be better off without him."

Neville just stared at the ground, offering no protest.

"No," Hermione said. "The Neville I know would never do that. No matter how guilty he felt-"

"It's all true," Neville whispered.

Hermione kicked him again, though he at least tried to avoid it this time. "You prat, Neville! How could you! I thought you had no choice, that you were being forced!"

"My parents had no choice." Neville slowly stood up. "I owed it to them." He turned to Susan. "I didn't mean for Hannah to find that ring. Honestly, I've been carrying it with me for so long, I just assumed I still had it on me, until you brought it up."

"That's no excuse," Susan spat. "You were still going to snuff it, and leave the girl you love with nothing but empty words. You don't see me rushing off to join my family. There's no point in dying for the dead, Neville."

"My parents _weren't_ dead," he snapped. "Not then, anyway."

"Well, they are _now_. And I know that because you listed Hannah as an emergency contact, and they owled her tonight. Which doesn't really seem to fit, for someone you apparently no longer have any intention to marry. If she was important enough for that, she should be important enough to live for. And quite honestly, if dying is the only thing you can do for your parents, I for one am glad they won't be with us long."

In a flash, both Neville and Susan had drawn their wands on each other. Neville looked furious, but Susan was strangely calm.

"What? Going to kill me, Bottom?" Susan whispered. "Don't like what I have to say about Mum and Dad? Well, tough! I don't like them. I hate them, if this is what they want from you, and I hate you for agreeing with it!"

"You could never understand," Neville hissed. "Your family's just dead. But my parents have been here, lingering on, slowly wasting away all this time, barely able to recognize their own son. You have no idea what that's like!"

"But I will soon, won't I?" Susan challenged. "Because this is going to kill Hannah, slowly. Even if I make up a story, say you just dropped dead, it won't be enough. You'll be dead, and she'll be dying, and it'll be all your fault, and I will never forgive you for taking my best friend from me. I've lost enough already. If you're going to poison her with your death, anyway, I'll be the one to make sure you're good and dead. You're dead to me, already. This'll just make it nice and official."

"I never wanted to hurt Hannah. I didn't plan for things to happen this way, they just did."

"Get stuffed! Why date at all if you were just going to crawl in a hole and die?! You're a bloody coward, Neville Longbottom, and I'm glad to be rid of you and your parents!" She glared at the Patronus beside Luna. "You know, there's only one good thing about tonight? When I go back to Hannah, and I start editing her memory? The very first thing I'm going to change is what she was planning to call them. She had decided on Alicia Amelia and Franklin Edgar, as a favor to me, but now? I don't want them walking around with any trace of your folks in their names. It'd be bad form."

Neville stared at her in dawning horror. "What?" he whispered.

"My godchildren, of course. She asked me the minute she knew for sure, and I said yes. I can't think of a better way to protect them, than to make certain they have no further connections to the Longbottoms. They'll be keeping their mother's surname, obviously, seeing as how their father didn't see fit to even let them see his face. I know, maybe for names we'll go with Barty and Bella instead-"

Enraged, Neville fired first, but somehow, Susan's spell hit him seconds before his ricocheted off her shield charm and exploded against the ground. He was thrown backwards, his wand spinning through the air and landing neatly in Susan's hand. She snapped it at once, tossed the pieces aside, and hexed Neville as he struggled to his feet. He froze on all fours, unable to move as a red haze surrounded his body.

"Everyone thinks Aurors are such hot stuff. And some of them are," Susan said. "They deal with some of the worst threats, but they also handle loads of paperwork and boring stakeouts. Easy to get soft in that line of work. See, Hit Witches are different. They don't care how good you are at sneaking about, or what your Potions marks were. All that really matters is how good you are in a scrap. And thanks to the DA training provided by you lot, I wasn't too shabby when it came to their training, either. But, I washed out in the end. Kingsley said I was a bit of a hothead, that I wasn't channeling my losses quite the way he'd hoped. He agreed to let me keep the memories of my training if I never got arrested. But you're all witnesses, Neville wants to die, and you can't kill someone who has already admitted to being suicidal. I'm doing him a favor, really. A firm push, if you like. I'll kill him. But only after I've made sure he knows exactly what he's walking out on, and how little I think of him for it."

"So you're going to torture him?" Luna asked.

"How can it be torture?" Susan shot back. "It's only torture if they tease you with losing something you care about. And Neville Longbottom damn sure doesn't care about his life or the family he's leaving behind. He's made that very clear."

"What's clear is that he didn't know about the children," Hermione pointed out.

"And he didn't deserve to know," Susan snapped. "They stopped being his the second he decided to abandon their mother. They deserve someone willing to fight for them. Someone who is entirely devoted to them. So instead of a great mom and a washout of a dad, they'll make do with two great moms. There's only one person to blame for that, and it isn't me. And if you two are going to defend him, then you-"

Susan trailed off as she noticed that the red haze around Neville was rapidly fading, and he was slowly getting to his feet.

"You're fast," Neville admitted. "Faster than almost every Auror I remember training with. And I trained with Harry. I forget what this spell is called, but I know it's supposed to last for hours. So either you cast it wrong, which I doubt, or you made me so angry that I was able to resist most of it."

"And why would you be angry about my plans for two kids that you'll never even see?" Susan demanded. "Could it be you're starting to realize what a bonehead move it is to leave them and their mother, if you don't absolutely have to? And you don't, Neville. You can tell your parents to sod off because you've got your own life to live now. You can beg Hannah to take you back, and maybe she'll agree. But the first thing you have to do is convince me that you're not going to screw everything up again. It's going to be a long time before I ever trust you again, and you are not going anywhere near those three until I'm convinced that you're in this for the long haul. I swear that I will fight you with every breath in my body, if I have to."

The red haze around Neville faded entirely a few seconds later. Susan tensed slightly, but Neville shook his head. She didn't look convinced.

Neville slowly walked over and knelt in front of his Patronus. "Mum? Dad? I'm sorry. I can't keep my promise this time, but I know you understand why I can't. And whether you do or don't agree, this is too important." He blinked hard, the silver and red rings resurfacing in his eyes. "You made me Number One, Mum. What I say goes. And I say... you two have done enough for me. It's time I stood on my own. I release you from our curse. Rest in peace."

The Patronus merely stared at him for a moment. Finally, it moved forward, nuzzling Neville with both heads. And then, in a move everyone but her understood, the Patronus turned and bowed low to Susan. Then, in a flash of light, it was gone.

Neville actually started to laugh, uncontrollably, and then broke down into tears, his head in his hands. Luna alone knelt down and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Susan shook her head slowly, then turned to Hermione. "So? What's all this rubbish about a curse?"

Hermione smiled weakly. "You can call it rubbish now, but... well, it stops being silly once you know the details, trust me. Once you know why you were chosen to know about it."

* * *

"Well, this is fun," Ron said abruptly.

"Shut up, Ron," Ginny replied, more or less automatically.

Ron pouted at the baby in his arms. "You hear that, Rosie? Aunt Ginny's being awful to Daddy again. Don't ever be like her when you grow up."

Rose cooed at him and drooled on his arm.

"Ugh. I said don't be like Aunt Ginny, not be like our old ghoul."

"Ron!" Ginny hissed.

"Aw, she knows Daddy loves her, don't you, Rosie?"

Rose turned away from him, distracted by the sight of Harry entering the kitchen with baby James in his arms.

"I heard fighting. I thought we agreed not to fight in front of the kids?" Harry asked.

"We weren't fighting, Gin was just being mean," Ron informed him. "I was being perfectly pleasant, as always."

Harry chuckled. "Ron, if you were being how you always are, I think I can figure out what really happened for myself."

Ron frowned at him. "I hope you're happy, Ginny. You've turned my best mate against me."

"I think that was more your doing than mine," Ginny sniffed.

All three adults watched, somewhat enviously, as James continued to sleep in Harry's arms. When Rose determined that he wasn't able to play, she went back to drooling on Ron's arm, much to his disgust and Ginny's delight.

There was soon another distraction, in the form of Luna breezing into the kitchen, promptly taking both babies for herself, having a seat at the table, and greeting absolutely no one.

"Erm, Luna?" Harry finally asked.

She looked up. "Oh, hello, everyone."

After a long pause, during which it became clear no explanation was forthcoming, Ron gave up and joined her at the table. "Everything squared away with Neville?"

"For the moment, I suppose," Luna replied. "Hermione is having a long talk with him, and then some others. She expects she'll be rather late. I've asked Roonil to help her, just in case." Noticing that Rose was making a spit bubble, Luna did the same, which startled Rose so much that hers burst. Perhaps thinking that part of the game, Luna followed suit. Naturally, being far more experienced, Luna's bubble had been of superior size and quality, and possibly enhanced a bit by her magic. Its dispersal made her the winner, provided that had been the goal. If, however, the winner was determined to be driest participant after both bubbles ceased to exist, then Rose was the winner by a clear margin.

Ginny buried her face in her hands as Ron grinned and passed Luna a towel.

* * *

Rolf had come to accept a certain amount of ambiguity where Luna was concerned. In general, he did not question her ideas outright, although he did propose slightly more grounded alternatives.

He would never want to prevent her from flying. He merely wanted to ensure that there was a crash pad nearby at all times.

As a Scamander, he fully embraced her sense of adventure. As a Scamander, he knew perfectly well that adventure required a healthy amount of both bravery and bandages.

Rolf had amassed an impressive collection of old scars that he had no desire to see on his intended. It was, perhaps, the one thing they disagreed about the most. Luna felt that scars told stories, which had alarmed Rolf until she assured him that most of her scars had been gained through pursuits that were entirely her own idea. And not only was she not afraid to get more, she even seemed to look forward to it.

He was thankful, then, to learn that Luna had precious friends who seemed equally dismayed at the thought of her getting hurt. At the same time, though, they acknowledged that Luna was capable in her own right, respected her wishes, and maintained frequent but somewhat distant contact, perhaps in an attempt to give Luna all the breathing room she could want. The understanding seemed to be that if Luna wanted to see them, she could visit as much as she wanted, but that they would only invade her space if she asked them to.

This did not suit Rolf at all, even if it worked well for Luna.

Luna had taken him to meet people such as Harry, Hermione, and Neville. Rolf liked them well enough. They gave the impression of being nice people that Luna would want to be friends with. And once they had enough information on him and his family, they proclaimed it an inspired match, and wished Rolf and Luna nothing but luck. In particular, both Harry and Neville had advised him to be patient with Luna. Hermione had given him a lecture on how wonderful a person Luna was, and how only a true git would be unable to appreciate that.

They loved Luna, clearly. Although none of them felt it necessary to protect her from herself, as Rolf did. And perhaps that was the difference of loving Luna, and being in love with Luna.

So when Hermione had shown up, with Roonil, unannounced, and without Luna, Rolf had been a bit perturbed. This lessened quickly, once she explained that she had begged Luna to babysit while Hermione dealt with some sensitive issues, and asked Rolf not to be too cross with her. He was not, of course. It was just like Luna to drop everything for a friend.

Still, an owl would have been nice.

Hermione further explained that Neville had just lost his parents, so the "old gang" would be closing ranks to help him through it. She made it very clear that while Rolf could certainly sympathize, the best contributions he could make would be a heartfelt sympathy note by owl, and plenty of understanding, as Luna was probably, awkwardly, Neville's best mate.

This was indeed awkward, because Luna had plainly told Rolf, more than once, that Neville had been interested in her that way at one point, but nothing had ever come of it. He was somewhat mollified by the news that Neville was seriously seeing someone else, and thus was no threat to Rolf.

Hermione then left Rolf alone with his thoughts while she and Queenie had a private and curiously long conversation. Queenie got on well with just about everyone, but Hermione had never struck Rolf as the type that would normally have much to say to her. Hermione was very much a career woman, and Queenie never had been, always viewing a job as something to keep her busy until the perfect man came along.

Really, considering some of the things he had heard about Hermione, Rolf was more amazed that she had not scoffed in Queenie's general direction and promptly left.

Instead, they talked for nearly two and a half hours, interrupted only by Roonil providing tea and biscuits. Rolf could only assume that either Hermione had come prepared with some wildly interesting discussion topic, or that her devotion to Luna was such that she wanted to be on excellent terms with Luna's soon-to-be family. And either way, Queenie was certainly the best person to win over.

Porpentina could be overly suspicious of strangers, and Newt, while friendly enough once his trust was gained, tended to be accidentally distant and rather obtuse for those unprepared for him. Although there had been some previous correspondence between Newt and Hermione, with her letters more closely resembling books, and Newt being rather intrigued by the changes she proposed at the Ministry. If anything, he was the one that Rolf would have expected Hermione to have a long conversation with.

When Hermione finally emerged, chatting amiably with Queenie like a pair of old girlfriends, Rolf had to restrain the urge to scratch his head. He did not understand it, but, unless he was very wrong, this made it slightly more likely that when he eventually asked Luna to marry him, Hermione would both support it and happily attend the wedding.

He was gaining ground, slowly but surely.

Rolf made a mental note to find the cutest stuffed animal he possibly could, and send it along to Hermione's daughter Rose. He was definitely going to need Hermione's help in the coming days, and it couldn't hurt to have a little insurance.

* * *

"You is awake now, Miss Hannah?"

Hannah blinked slowly and turned her head toward the voice, finding an anxious elf staring at her. "Hello, Julius." She paused, taking stock of her surroundings. She recognized that she was lying down in one of the Leaky Cauldron's guest rooms. "Why am I in bed?"

"You passed out, Miss Hannah. Miss Sooz is saying you work too hard, is putting you to bed, and is telling Julius not to let anyone disturb you."

Hannah smiled. It had taken a great deal of effort to get Julius to refer to Susan as "Sooz" at all, and he still refused to call her just that. And he would not compromise on Hannah's title at all, as she was his boss.

"Wait, if we're up here, who's watching the bar?" Hannah asked. She had faith in Julius, but she had also never known him to leave his work unattended. And sure enough...

"Novembra is filling in for Julius."

"Ah. That's your youngest sister, right?"

Julius nodded, pleased that she'd remembered. He had made a point of introducing Hannah to his entire family, one by one, over the course of a few days. The trouble was, unless they were very far apart in age or bore distinct scars, most elves resembled each other quite a bit, at least in Hannah's opinion. The only one who had managed to stand out was Roonil, and that was more because he'd been dressed in a way made it impossible to forget him. That he was Luna's companion instantly explained this: clearly, he had adopted her rather unique style, and it made him just as noticeable among elves as Luna was among humans.

"How long was I sleeping?" Hannah asked with a frown.

"You passed out last night, so not long," Julius assured her.

Hannah glanced at the clock on the wall, and her frown deepened. "But it's almost noon."

"Miss Sooz said to let you sleep, even if there was a fire."

"What!"

"She said to levitate you out if there was a fire, but not to wake you up no matter what," Julius clarified.

"Oh." Hannah sighed. "Where is she, anyway?"

"Last time Julius checked, downstairs in the storeroom, yelling at Mister Neville."

Hannah blinked. "What? Why?"

Julius shrugged. "Miss Sooz didn't say, and told Julius to put a Silencing Charm on the door."

Not liking that one bit, Hannah started to get up, only to pause as Neville entered the room, with a telltale red hand-print on both cheeks.

"Hi," Hannah said warily.

"Oh, don't worry about this," Neville said, apparently unconcerned as he leaned in to kiss her forehead. "Sooz just needed to vent. How are you feeling?"

"Confused," Hannah said truthfully. "Why were you two arguing?"

"We weren't," Neville replied. "She was just yelling at me."

Hannah realized that that was indeed what Julius had said. "Why, though?"

"I did something stupid," Neville admitted. "Could have ended really badly. Sooz found out and let me know that she wasn't happy about it. And she was right to. Saves you the trouble of doing it yourself." He said that last part in a sort of hopeful tone that earned him a flat look.

"What did you do, Neville?" Hannah asked.

"An Auror friend of mine called in a favor, but as it turns out, I'm a bit out of practice. Got myself Stunned."

"But you're okay?" Hannah asked nervously.

Neville reached over and squeezed her hands. "I'm okay. Not as smart as I should be, according to Sooz and myself, but I'm okay. Point is, I shouldn't have done it and I'm sorry. I already feel like an idiot, and we can dwell on that for a while, but I'd really rather not."

Hannah threw her arms around his neck.

"Not complaining, but I thought you'd be mad," Neville murmured, wrapping his arms around her and burying his nose in her hair.

"I am. Don't ever do that again, Nev."

"I'm sorry, Han."

"Shut up and hold me, you prat."

"Well, before I went off to be an idiot, I did something else that you might think is stupid, too, considering."

Hannah slowly pulled away from him, and gasped when she saw the ring box in his hand.

"I wasn't going to do it now, but Sooz made me realize what I could have lost, if you didn't forgive me. And I don't ever want to lose you, not even for a minute."

Hannah burst into tears, but pushed Neville away when he tried to hug her again. "So long as we're dropping surprises on each other, I've got two little ones for you, as well."

"Oh, really?" Neville asked with a straight face. "Better than mine, then?"

Hannah's lips twitched. "I don't know if they're better, but I'm hoping you'll think all three go nicely together."

He smiled. "Well, try me and let's see."

* * *

"Can't _believe_ I ever wanted to shower with you," Susan grumbled as Neville walked back into the storeroom a few minutes later and closed the door behind him.

Neville sighed. "I'm sure I deserve that, and then some."

"So? How did it go?"

"She wants to be the one to tell you the most important parts, but I think it went well."

"You don't deserve her."

Neville nodded. "Can't argue with that."

Susan glared at him. "I haven't forgiven you."

"Nor should you."

"Stop agreeing with me. You're taking all the fun out of it."

"When you're right, you're right."

"I should hate you."

"I'm very glad that you don't, Sooz."

"No," Susan said sharply. "You don't get to call me that anymore. That's for my friends only."

"We are friends. After last night, you're my very best friend, no doubt about it. Anyone who would go that far to keep this family together is definitely my best friend for life. Even if she won't admit it. Or shower with me."

Susan smirked. "Not funny. It's too soon."

"Is it?" Neville asked. "You haven't hexed me yet."

"Don't tempt me, Bottom."

He smiled. "I know you told me to quit apologizing, but-"

"Stop it, or I will hex you."

"I just want you to know how much I appreciate you. I'm glad Hermione and Luna showed up, but it was you who really-"

"How come you never dated them?" Susan interrupted.

Neville groaned. "It wasn't for lack of trying. Hermione was nice enough, but she knew what she wanted, and it wasn't me. As for Luna, she prefers that we remain friends, and I agree. I couldn't be with someone like her, I'd be too confused all of the time. They're better as my sisters, don't you think?"

"Luna coddles you, but Hermione isn't afraid to kick your teeth in. They'll do."

"Thanks. I think." Neville cleared his throat nervously. "I, um, didn't realize you could use your tattoos that way."

Susan frowned at him. "I don't exactly go around telling people. Family secrets and all that."

"Sure. I didn't know you could fly with the Snitch one, really startled me when it showed up."

"Are you trying to make a point, or are you fishing for information?"

Neville blushed. "Just, erm... well, you showed me where the Snitch was. I was curious about the reaper. Where it is on you, I mean."

Susan stared at him. "I'm not sure that's any of your business."

"It's not," Neville said quickly. "Just wondering."

"Well, keep wondering, then. You lost your chance to see that one when you picked-"

The door banged open, and both of them jumped as Hannah walked in, glancing between them suspiciously.

"I'm not exactly sure this is something I want to find, my new hubby-to-be and my bestie hiding in a storeroom on the day I get proposed to," Hannah said.

"We were just talking," Neville assured her. "Sooz has made it very clear where she and I stand, and it's far apart."

"Damn right," Susan agreed, shooting a glare at him. Her face softened as she turned back to Hannah. "So? You two are engaged?"

"Yeah," Hannah murmured, blushing as she showed off her new ring. "I've just owled my family."

"That's wonderful, Abby luv," Susan replied, beaming as she gave Hannah a tight hug and a peck on the cheek. "I'm so happy for you!"

"Thanks, Sooz. Um, we wanted to get your opinion on something..."

"Yes, you can do better, but I guess he'll do," Susan sighed.

Hannah pouted. "Don't be mean! I'm serious."

"Fine, what is it?"

"You know I'm having twins, and Nev and I thought for the boy, we'd call him Lunarius Herman."

Susan gaped at them. This was such an obvious homage to Luna and Hermione, and well-deserved, that she couldn't bring herself to admit that she hated the name.

"And for the girl, we were hoping you'd consent to her being called Susannah Amelia."

Susan looked at Neville suspiciously. She wondered why he hadn't used the names of his parents.

"We agreed," he said at once. "No better namesakes than her godmother's family."

"Uh... okay?" Susan murmured. "Sure, that sounds great. Really nice, you two. I'm honored, and I'm sure Auntie would be, too."

"I have to tell the elves!" Hannah squealed, hugging and kissing them both before running from the room.

"What about naming them after your parents?" Susan demanded once Hannah was gone.

Neville shook his head. "You were cruel, but you were right. That isn't a burden I want my children to have to live with. And there are other ways to honor my parents. Like trusting someone they approved of."

"If this is about that Patronus bowing to me again," Susan said quickly, "you need to let that go. It didn't mean anything."

"Sooz, please just think about-"

"It didn't mean anything," Susan repeated firmly. "Let it go, Neville. Haven't I already proven that I don't need some damned curse to protect my godchildren? I don't care what you or Hermione think. I'm not talking about this again, got it?"

He stared at her sadly. "Fine."

"And get that look off of your face. If you ruin this for her a second time-"

"I wouldn't do that."

"See that you don't."

* * *

Neville and Hannah were married barely a month later. And while Susan had her complaints, she held her tongue. Hannah was happy, and Neville was doing everything in his power to keep her that way. That was all that mattered to Susan.

Neville also didn't mention the curse anymore. He didn't have to. He would still give her those pleading looks, but Susan stood firm. That curse, if it was real, had nearly cost Hannah all of her happiness. Susan wasn't about to trust it, or Neville, particularly if he was trying to get her to use it.

Hermione had been convincing, very convincing. If nothing else, Susan believed that Hermione thought the curse was real. And Hermione was still one of the smartest people that Susan knew. But that changed nothing. If it had been Harry or Ron on the chopping block, Hermione would have been just as unreasonable.

Hermione couldn't possibly understand. Neither could Neville, not really.

Susan had lost her entire family once. She wasn't losing anyone else. Neville had threatened that, so he was damned lucky that she hadn't killed him for it. But it was more than that.

If Susan dared to believe in this curse, and it failed her, or betrayed her feelings the way it had with Neville, what was the point? She could still lose Hannah. And that was something that she absolutely refused to do, no matter what.

* * *

"Sooz!"

Hermione sighed and stroked her daughter's hair. "No, Rose. Sus-an."

"Sooz!" Rose insisted.

"I don't mind," Susan pointed out, trying not to laugh as she tickled Rose, making her giggle and squirm.

"I do," Hermione said mildly.

"Hermione, she's a baby. I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to correct her speech later on. I'll even help you, if you want."

"It's habit-forming," Hermione insisted. "She's started calling Harry 'Boom-Boom' and won't stop."

Susan snorted. "Um, dare I ask why?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Because Ron, in his brilliance, taught her that thunder and lightning go together, complete with sound effects. So Rose took one look at Harry's scar and decided his name should match the sound effects."

"And Harry hates it?"

"No, he said she was a genius and gave her a kiss."

Susan chuckled. "Hermione, you are practically a teacher every second of the day. I'm sure you'll be able to break her bad habits. But I am equally sure that a kid calling someone a cutesy name probably won't stick. Not unless she's unusually determined to defy you. Which I don't think would happen, unless you prove to be no fun for her entire life. So stop it, and let the kid live a little. She'll thank you for it, trust me."

Hermione sighed and frowned at Rose, who stared at her curiously. "I just want her to have all the options I did. More options than I did, really. But for that to happen-"

"You have to make her smarter than you?" Susan guessed. "Forgive me, Hermione, but I don't see that happening, unless she starts quoting Dumbledore in the next three seconds."

They waited.

Rose sneezed.

It did not sound even remotely like Dumbledore. Unless one considered Dumbledore's habit, when prompted for words of wisdom, of sometimes instead uttering nonsense. Then it sounded remarkably like him.

"Well, that was a bust," Susan decided, tickling Rose again. "I guess your kid is only going to have average superior intelligence. Oh, what a shame."

"Your voice simply oozes with insincerity sometimes, did you know?" Hermione asked.

"Rose will be fine," Susan stated plainly. "You will teach her all she needs to know, Ron will smother her with love and laughs, and if she doesn't realize how lucky that makes her, then I will happily point it out to her. You have nothing to worry about. At least she's not making her veggies magically explode like James is. That kid is a menace."

Hermione laughed. "Harry says he's pleased, but I notice it's usually Ginny who has to clean up." She paused, then added tentatively, "You and Neville seem to have patched things up, for the most part."

Susan pointedly stared at Rose, who had climbed into Hermione's lap in a successful bid to gain her mother's attention, and was sucking contentedly on her own thumb. Hermione started to discourage this, then noticed that Rose was eyeing a nearby fake wand, and decided the thumb was safer.

"He wasn't lying," Hermione said softly. "About the curse. None of us would ever joke about something like that. And certainly not with you, Susan. We would never be so cruel."

"I don't get you guys," Susan muttered. "It's a curse. Clearly Dark stuff. You shouldn't be encouraging me to-"

"That's not it," Hermione interrupted. "It's not that we want you to use it. It's that we want you to understand. Above all, we don't want you to think that any of us are trying to trick you. We want you to make a fully informed choice, either to embrace or reject it."

"Fine. You told me everything, and I said no. So why won't you just drop it?"

"Because the curse wouldn't have appeared to you, unless you had a need for it. And I would say that you do."

Susan glared at her. "No, I'm not the one with the need. It's Neville, isn't it? You just don't want him to be alone."

"Do you?" Hermione countered. "You could have easily cut him out of Hannah's life. Instead, you gave him a chance to come back in and make things right. You supported him when you didn't have to."

"That's because he makes her happy. When he isn't screwing things up, anyway."

"You're going to be in his life, anyway. You were before this all came to light. You two were friends, at the very least."

"Then what's the big deal?" Susan demanded. "Curse or no curse, I'm not going anywhere, and I can live with that just fine. He'll have to do the same."

Hermione sighed and shook her head. "Neville's case has always been unusual. With his parents being... incapacitated for so long, the curse wasn't functioning in a predictable way. Now that he's alone in it, the situation is even less stable. In theory, he should be safe because he's Number One, but the curse was never intended for one person to have all three roles. It goes against the original purpose. So the longer he's like that, the more likely that something will go wrong. If you won't do it to help Neville, do it because not helping him could mean that Hannah loses him."

* * *

To no great surprise, Hermione had thoroughly researched pregnancy before actually getting pregnant. She collected, labeled, and neatly arranged book after book on what her husband should do during every stage of pregnancy. She did this because she knew there would be mood swings. She did this because she knew there would be pregnancy brain.

She did this because she was married to Ron Weasley, and he could never recall a time when he had appreciated her habit of reading, writing things down, and basically doing 85 percent of the work for him in advance, more.

And as if she knew that her mother had everything planned out, and that there was nothing to worry about, Rose popped out, with no fuss, as if she'd been pre-greased and born to a pair of professional lugers. Her parents attributed this to Hermione's extreme preparedness, and a bit of luck.

They had no way of knowing that when her little brother Hugo came along, he would render virtually all planning useless. Indeed, when they looked back on that hectic day, there was one thing that truly stood out. Ron finally giving up trying to live by the books, and saying outright, "Let's just wing it," was the most helpful bit of advice they got during the hours it took Hugo to make his grand entrance. Ron would fondly compare that episode to Mandrake potting with one hand tied behind his back. When Hermione got offended by the description, he would assure her that she was a most lovely pot that he couldn't wait to plant more of his seeds in.

Whether it was because all her plans had failed, or because she simply wasn't in the mood, or because the joke wasn't funny, Hermione never laughed at it.

Some events just can't be planned for effectively.

Which was why, among the pregnancy books Hermione collected for Ron, was one that assured the reader that pregnancy was little more than nature's way of striking back mercilessly at both men and women, that they deserved to suffer, and that the whole situation could have been avoided if only they'd agreed to keep their pants on.

Ron did not much care for this book. Especially not during those times when Hermione was screaming that she wished she'd never met him, or asking why he couldn't be more understanding, or sobbing that she was being too hard on him and could he please forgive her.

The same book introduced him to cheerful little acronyms such as REAR (Reducto Everything And Run), UBAR (Umbridged Beyond All Rescue), and WEMACD (Wizards Eat Magic And Crap Disaster). Perhaps the most unhelpful one was a little tidbit that Harry had contributed: WWHD (What Would Hermione Do?). Because if Ron knew that, he either wouldn't need to consult a book, or he'd have memorized exactly what book to look in and what page the relevant information could be found on.

So when Ron found himself dragged along to attend the births of Lunarius Herman and Susannah Amelia Longbottom, he was one of the few present who was remarkably stress-free. He had seen birth before, and most importantly, it wasn't happening to him and Hermione this time. His mother was happily watching Rose at The Burrow. All was well in Ron Weasley's world.

Sort of.

Witches giving birth was always something of a crapshoot, though perhaps not in the expected way. Certainly there were Healers who were certified experts in guiding couples through childbirth, which was all well and good. Unfortunately, there were no Healers fluent in Baby. So even if there was a whole army of Healers present, the best they could do is reassure the mother and deliver the baby as quickly and safely as possible. What they could not do is reassure the baby, and to be frank, the only person who could possibly be more traumatized by childbirth, other than the woman doing it, or the people witnessing it, was the baby experiencing it firsthand.

After brushing up on all the literature, and having seen it for himself, Ron was firmly of the opinion that he knew the reason babies didn't retain memory of being born. It was simply because no brain would ever allow its young owner to begin their life with such a traumatic memory. Likewise, it should have surprised no one that some babies did things that stalled or outright prevented simple births. It was as if they knew what was coming, and had no desire to face it. And magical babies proved far more adept at delaying the inevitable than Muggle ones did.

Rose, thank Merlin, had been a fearless daredevil, and raced unflinchingly into the unknown.

Lunaris and Susannah seemed to be taking the scenic route, or perhaps were taking no route at all.

Hannah, Hermione, Susan, and a Healer who briefly introduced herself as Betty, had been holed up in the bedroom for the past several hours. Hermione would briefly emerge to fetch towels and water, or to tell Ron to get them for her, but other than that, there was no news.

Neville was a nervous wreck. Ron would punch him in the shoulder every so often, or say encouraging things like, "Get a grip, mate," when necessary.

Luna, for reasons that Ron could only guess at, had decided to stay outside with the menfolk. Perhaps she had been asked to distract Neville. She was certainly distracting Ron, with her detailed descriptions of how various magical creatures gave birth. Ron was not sure he wanted to know all that, but since Neville was listening with a kind of fascinated horror on his face, and clearly not focused on what was happening in the bedroom, Ron was forced to tentatively consider Luna's tactics to be successful. And if nothing else, her presence also meant Roonil's presence, which kept them all supplied with snacks. No one was truly hungry, but it gave them something to pass the time with.

The next time the bedroom door opened, Susan slowly came out. She was carrying Lunaris in her arms, and they both looked exhausted. Without a word, Susan carefully placed Lunarius in Neville's arms, then promptly collapsed in a nearby chair.

Neville's focus was entirely on his son, and Luna had finally stopped talking.

Ron was the only one watching Susan, who, instead of being happy, put her face in her hands and began to weep silently. This did not strike him as a good thing, and he had half a mind to go into the bedroom and find out what they clearly weren't being told.

"Ronald," Luna said abruptly, "Susan needs a hug." And then she looked at him expectantly.

Ron could think of only a handful of times he'd said more than a couple of words to Susan, and most of that was about her babysitting Rose. She was really more Hermione's friend than his.

He could not think of a single time that he'd hugged her, or her him. This did not seem like a great time to start. Which was exactly why only Luna could suggest such a thing and be taken perfectly seriously. Which did not make it any less awkward, or even a good idea. It just made it a Luna sort of idea.

Susan gave no indication that she'd heard Luna's suggestion. To be safe, Ron poked her arm once. Susan was exactly the type of person who would complain about that, and when she didn't, Ron took this to mean it was safe to proceed. She would not move, however, so he ended up lifting her out of the chair, sitting down himself, and sort of holding her in his lap while he hesitantly rubbed her back. When Susan really didn't complain about that, he figured things had to be really bad in the bedroom.

It took Ron a moment to realize that he was now trapped under Susan, so going to the bedroom was no longer an option. It took him slightly longer to realize that maybe that had been Luna's intent all along.

Eventually, Neville seemed to become aware of the fact that he was only holding one baby, and that he was supposed to have two. He glanced at Susan, who clearly wasn't talking, then turned uncertainly to Luna, who merely took Lunarius from him. After a pause, Neville got up and went into the bedroom, which until then had been declared a man-free zone.

Abruptly, the doorbell rang.

Ron briefly pondered on if it would be rude to yell for someone in the bedroom to answer the door, considering that he, Susan, and Luna were really in no position to do it themselves.

Naturally, without bothering to confirm who was visiting, Luna carefully transferred Lunarius to one arm, drew her wand, pointed it at the door, and caused it to unlock and swing open.

Ron was desperately hoping it was at least someone they knew. He had his fingers crossed for either Harry or Ginny or Harry and Ginny, but wasn't really expecting them, since James was running a fever.

It was indeed someone Ron knew, but like Susan, only vaguely.

Luna beamed as Queenie Goldstein entered the house and left the door wide open. "Queenie, you came," Luna said, sounding both relieved and hesitant.

"Of course I did," Queenie said at once, walking over to fondly brush her knuckles against Luna's cheek. "You called me, sweetie. Why wouldn't I come?" Her gaze shifted to Ron, who then realized he was sort of gaping at her. Rather attractive older women who visited unexpectedly still had that effect on Ron, and fortunately, this was not the case often enough where Hermione had noticed. "Hello, Ron," Queenie said brightly. If she was bothered by his staring, she didn't show it. Instead, she looked at Susan, who had not reacted to her appearance. "And you must be Susan Bones."

When Susan looked at Queenie but said nothing, Ron poked her. It didn't help.

"I think some of us could use some fresh air," Queenie announced, clapping her hands once. "Ron, would you be a gentleman and accompany me?" And then, as if he had already agreed, "Bring Susan, too."

Ron was not quite sure that leaving was the best idea, but before he could say anything, Luna added, "I'll let everyone know where you are."

Considering himself outvoted, Ron stood up with Susan in his arms. Susan began to fidget, so Ron put her down. She stood on her own, which was an improvement, but she fisted one hand into his sleeve, which was worrying. Also, she was staring at Queenie in a way that Ron suspected only a woman who feared Queenie was after her husband or boyfriend could. And since Susan had neither as far as he knew, this was odd.

Queenie turned and walked back outside. Ron started to follow, and was mildly relieved when Susan did the same. He made sure to shut the door behind them, somewhat suspecting that there might be shouting or even spell-casting that would negatively impact people trying to ensure a safe childbirth.

Queenie had only gone a few feet from the door, where she conjured up three pink armchairs. She immediately sat in each one, as if to prove they were safe, and stayed in the last one. Ron took the middle one, and after a pause, Susan took the remaining one.

"I suppose you are both surprised to see me," Queenie began.

"You're Luna's Queenie," Susan said, almost accusingly. "I imagine you're full of surprises, just like her."

Queenie blinked. "I don't think I've ever been told that I belong to Luna," she admitted with a smile, "but I suppose that's accurate now. Yes. And I prefer not to think of myself as too predictable."

"Why are you here?" Susan demanded.

"As I said, Luna called me. With her mind." At Susan's blank look, Queenie explained further. "You are aware that the curse allows for power sharing. I am a Legilimens, and as you can imagine, Luna has had several occasions where needing to borrow that is necessary. And now that we both have it, it allows us to communicate without words. More than we did before, anyway."

Susan frowned. "I don't want you reading my mind."

Queenie sighed. "That's virtually impossible for me to prevent. It's obvious that you haven't learned any Occlumency, and people in pain are terribly easy for me to read. And right now, you are in terrible pain, Susan. I would like to help you, if you'll let me. Luna thought you might have some questions that I am uniquely qualified to answer."

"Questions about what?"

"What it's like to be Number Two. And I included Ron, just in case you need two perspectives."

Ron started to relax, now that he understood what was going on. But then he paled, as he realized why any of this might be necessary. "Wait," he muttered. "Hannah-"

Susan looked at him sharply, and he fell silent.

Queenie nodded. "I can say it, if you'd rather not, Susan. Luna is fully aware of the situation. It's why she called me." When there was no protest, she continued. "There are some complications with the second baby. The Healer has already asked Hannah whether priority should be given to saving her, or Susannah. Hannah picked Susannah."

Ron grimaced. "Damn. And the curse is the only way?"

"It's a precautionary measure," Queenie corrected. "In case things don't go well for Hannah. We are assuming that they will go well for Susannah." She turned to Susan. "So, if you have questions, please ask. Quickly, preferably. I was given the impression that this matter is especially time-sensitive."

Susan glared at her. "I can't trust Neville to be Number One. Not after what he did."

"He knows that. I have no doubt that he'd be willing to make Hannah the new Number One, if it would mean that you'd agree to be Number Two. That would leave him as Number Three, and your trio would be complete. And surely you trust Hannah more than him. That solves the problem, doesn't it?"

Susan stared. She looked far less certain of her reasoning, now. "I hadn't considered that," she admitted.

Queenie smiled. "You want to save your best friend. The curse can do that. Just tell Neville what you want. He's hardly in any position to refuse you. If you feel you can't trust him, you won't have to for very long. Just long enough for him to transfer the lead role to Hannah." She leaned forward, peering into Susan's eyes. "His parents gave you their parting blessing for a reason, even if you don't like to admit it. They trusted you to look after him. You can do that, as his conscience. As his Number Two."

"I don't regret it," Ron said abruptly, causing Susan to look at him. "There were times when I thought it was mad, going along with cursing my best mate. But when I think about how it felt to lose my brother... if I had to go through that with Harry or Hermione, I don't think I could. We're a team, you know? You can't just replace one of us or go on without them. It doesn't work like that. It's them, or no one. If that's how you feel about Hannah, then you should do this. But you should know, I've never seen Neville this bad before. I think if he loses Hannah, you'll be raising those babies alone. And if there's one thing any kids named Longbottom deserve, it's two healthy parents to raise them."

* * *

Hannah came awake slowly. Even before she opened her eyes, she sensed that she was not alone in the bedroom, and the presence was familiar enough where she knew it could only be one person.

"Sooz?" she murmured, her voice still thick with sleep.

"I'm here, Abby luv," Susan whispered, leaning over to stroke her friend's hair. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," Hannah answered. "Are the babies-?"

"They're both fine," Susan said, glancing over her shoulder at the cribs in the corner. "Both exhausted, like you, and both sleeping this day off, like you should be."

Hannah sighed, closing her eyes. "I was... really scared for a while there," she admitted. "I thought-"

Susan shushed her, laying a finger against Hannah's lips. "Don't talk like that. I'm not letting you get away from me that easily."

Hannah smiled weakly. "I'd never run away from you, Sooz."

"Yeah, and you better not. I signed up to be godmother, not mother. And don't think for one second that I wouldn't change that boy's name as soon as the adoption was final. D'you think I want people asking me why my son's got a weird name like Lunarius?"

"You said you liked it!" Hannah pouted.

"I said it was fine for you and Neville," Susan corrected. "The implication being that it would never be fine for me. I mean, honestly. You've made it so the kid might actually prefer being called 'Hermy' to his face. I know I wouldn't forgive you, if it was me. You're lucky he'll have his Auntie Sooz to confide in."

Hannah started to say something, but it turned into a wide-mouthed yawn that seemed to sap the rest of her strength, and her eyes began to close. "Stay with me, Sooz?" she murmured.

"I'm not going anywhere," Susan promised as Hannah fell asleep again. "I'm never going anywhere without you."

 **End of Chapter 3.**

* * *

 **Really Concluded in Chapter 4: Nine to Three**

The bond between cursebearers is eternal, but their will is not. Time marches on.


	4. Nine to Three

Notes: I split this last chunk off from Chapter 3 both because it was getting long, and because I felt the focused shifted from Neville right about here.

* * *

 **Luna Lovegood and the Cursed Trios**  
 **A Harry Potter/Fantastic Beasts Fanfic by**  
 **Nate Grey (xman0123-at-aol-dot-com)**  
 **Chapter 4: Nine to Three**

* * *

Rose frowned at her companion. "James, we had a deal. You can't back out now."

"I'm not backing out," James snapped. "I'm just saying I didn't sign up for this."

"We promised that we'd watch the kids. I said I could handle Lunarius, and you said you would watch Susannah. That was the agreement."

"That was before she tried to slip me a Love Potion, Rose!"

Rose tried very hard not to laugh. "Well, surely you realized it in time?"

"That's not the point! She's... trying to take advantage of me! At least let's switch!"

"Um, no. We both know that Susannah hates me, because she's convinced that one day, I'll try to marry you and take you away from her. I'm not going anywhere near her until she grows out of that."

"This isn't fair! Bad enough I have to watch Al when I'm at home, and when I finally get a break from that, it's only so I get stuck watching these two!"

"This different," Rose said firmly. "D'you think I love watching Hugo all the time?"

"Yeah, because he never talks, and does what you tell him to! Al is nothing like that!"

"But Susannah is, so long as it's you, so get back in there. It's only for a few more minutes, until Sooz gets back, and then-"

"Why couldn't _she_ watch them?" James demanded. "She always did before!"

"Because this is a wedding, and she's busy, so we offered to help out. You do remember that part, yes?" Rose reminded him. "James, one reason we're best friends is that you've never broken your word to me. Don't start now, okay?"

"We're also cousins," James pointed out, as he always did.

"Yes, but that just means I have to love you. It doesn't mean I have to like you. But I _do_ like you. So don't give me reason to change that now. Time to channel your inner Weasley. 'Gryffindor or Death' and all that."

"That's _not_ a thing," James hissed at her, but when Rose went into the next room, he followed reluctantly.

Lunarius was scribbling on his sketchpad, while Susannah was staring at the wall and angrily tapping her foot. The second she spotted Rose returning, she frowned, but this bloomed into a wide smile the second she saw James.

"What's that you're working on, Lu?" Rose asked, sitting down next to him.

"Runespoor," Lunarius said absently, not looking up.

Before James could speak, Susannah had pounced on him, clamping onto his arm. "James, let's go for a walk, just the two of us?" she suggested hopefully, batting her eyelashes at him.

"No, we'll stay here, where there are witnesses," James said firmly.

She pouted at him. "I said I was sorry about the potion-"

"You _say_ a lot of things."

"-but I just wanted to help your feelings along-"

"They don't need any help."

"-so you'll stop fighting the idea of us!"

"I'm not fighting that, I'm fighting _you_! There will never be an us!"

"You're so cute when you're angry, did you know?"

James took a deep breath and glared at Rose, who was pointedly not meeting his eyes.

Rose coughed. "Hey, Lu, why don't you draw your sister? I bet she'd love to model for you."

Susannah frowned. "Why would I-?"

"So you can give it to James."

"-not want to, it's a perfect idea!"

James sighed in relief as Susannah released him, but blanched when she stretched out in a suggestive manner on the couch and kept giving him saucy winks.

Lunarius was thoroughly unimpressed with this. "Yeah, no. If I draw her looking like that, Mum would murder the pair of us."

"Maybe a more natural pose, Susannah?" Rose asked.

Susannah scowled at her. "My love for James _is_ natural!"

Lunarius rolled his eyes. "Forget it. This is a waste, anyway."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Susannah asked angrily. "You don't think I'm pretty enough to be a model?!"

Lunarius raised his eyebrows. "Did you hear me say that?"

"You might as well have implied it!"

"I'm starting to worry about you, Susie. Hearing things at this young age, that can't be good."

"Don't! Call! Me! SUSIE!" Susannah shrieked, launching herself at him. James managed to catch her around the middle and pull her away before she could do any damage, but Lunarius dropped his sketchpad and braced himself, just in case. Rose picked it up and flipped through it, her eyes widening. It was indeed a waste for Lunarius to sketch a picture of Susannah in a provocative pose. Because almost every other sketch was of Susannah: laughing, smiling, her head bent over a book, asleep with a kitten curled up next to her, running through a field of flowers. And in each one, Rose could tell that Lunarius had poured not just talent, but love into his craft, because he truly cared about the model. He was surely the only one that could capture Susannah this way, truly natural, because it was obvious that she hadn't posed for a single one of the sketches. And there was no way she could know about them, because if she had, she would never question if Lunarius thought she was pretty.

That could have ended the fight easily enough. But Rose figured there had to be a reason why Lunarius had never said anything, so she wouldn't, either.

Thankfully, the fight broke up immediately when Susan returned to see what all the noise was about.

"Lunarius called me ugly!" Susannah shouted at once, glaring at her brother.

Susan looked at Lunarius, who was frowning, though not in a guilty way. "Is that what happened?" she asked Rose and James.

"He only said it would be a waste to sketch her," Rose said slowly, "but I think he meant with the way she was posing, not because she wasn't nice to look at." She immediately nudged James hard. "Isn't Susannah nice to look at, James?"

James glared at her, but sighed. "She's not ugly," he grumbled.

Susannah's face lit up at once, which made Lunarius scowl. "See!" she said triumphantly. "James thinks I'm pretty! What do you say to that?"

"I say you're the _only_ one here who doesn't know what James thinks," Lunarius said bluntly. He immediately turned to Susan. "Can I get out of here? Suddenly I'm feeling sick to my stomach."

"Sure, let's take a walk," Susan said, grasping his hand.

The second they were out of the door, Lunarius demanded, "Were you that thick, when you were that age?"

"If I was, everyone was kind enough not to tell me," Susan said pointedly.

"She's just, so... impossible over the stupidest things! I would _never_ say that she was ugly! Not only do I not think that, even if I did, I'd never say it! How can we be twins if she doesn't even know that much about me?! How can she not get that I like her more than James ever will?"

"She's got a crush. They're not great for logical thinking," Susan said.

"So I'm supposed to just support this mad dream she's got of being with James, and then when he breaks her heart, she'll turn on me and ask why I didn't stop her?"

"Or if you don't support it and he breaks her heart, then she won't let you comfort her because she'll say you were never there for her."

"This isn't helping," Lunarius snapped.

"I'm aware."

"So what should I do?"

"The same thing a good boyfriend would do. Apologize when you did nothing wrong. Agree especially when you don't. Basically, give her whatever she wants, even when you know she needs the opposite."

"What good will that do?"

"It'll make her like you. And when James screws it all up, you can do something stupidly heroic like hex him, and she'll be mad at you for it, but she'll also be touched that you wanted to avenge her."

"That all sounds pretty stupid."

"Oh, it is," Susan assured him. "Love is pretty stupid, especially when it's with the wrong person. Just remember when you're hexing James, it's not his fault. He's doing his best to get out of this, too. And hopefully he'll remember that you don't want to be doing this, either, and go easy on you. In fact, you two should probably talk this out beforehand, agree on what's allowed and what isn't."

"And you think he'll really go for that?"

"Trust me, if everyone could work out in advance when someone was going to attack them stupidly, the world would be a much better place to live in. And if he doesn't go for it, tell Rose and she'll make him."

Lunarius grunted. "They're not really going to end up married to each other, are they?"

"I doubt it, but I do think they may end up so close that it'll be hard for anyone else to marry them. Whether that's a bad thing or not is open to debate. I mean, would you mind if that happened with you and Susannah?"

"Yeah, I would. I love her and all, but she's a bit much at times."

Susan laughed. "Now, is that really something you want to be saying to her namesake?"

"Yeah, it is, because I've never wanted a break from you for a while," Lunarius said firmly. "You don't assume the worst about me every chance you get."

"In that case, why don't we go see what we can do about making sure your namesake ends up married today?"

"Sounds like a plan," Lunarius agreed at once.

* * *

Luna was her usual serene self, even when it came to getting married. There was really nothing that Susan and Lunarius could do for her. She accepted a hug from Lunarius, told him knowingly to be patient with his sister, and then asked them to check on Rolf.

And it was a good thing she did, because Rolf was an absolute mess.

He'd asked seven different people, at regular intervals, to check on Luna and be sure she hadn't run out on him. One of these was Queenie, the only woman mixed in with the groomsmen, who kept up a running telepathic commentary with Luna, and who Rolf still ignored in favor of someone who had actually seen Luna with their own eyes. Queenie wisely did not take that slight personally, as Rolf was worrying himself sick without her help.

Lunarius wasn't sure that he was much help, either. Mostly he told Rolf the truth: that he'd just seen Luna, that she was fine, and that she didn't appear to want to escape. That seemed to assure Rolf for all of three minutes, and then it was as if he'd forgotten everything he'd heard. Lunarius had never seen the man in such a state.

Then Ginny ran up and dragged Susan away for some sort of bridesmaid emergency, and Lunarius wandered a bit until he found Newt and Porpentina Scamander, who he had been instructed, by Luna, to think of his soon-to-be god-grandparents-in-law. She sounded perfectly serious when she said this, and Lunarius had never felt particularly unwelcome around them, so he thought it must be accurate enough. He showed Newt his Runespoor drawing, not to impress him, but to ask for pointers. Sure enough, Newt had quickly circled some areas that needed a bit of work. Far from being offended, Lunarius promised the next one would be better. Newt sort of got this look that suggested he wanted to show Lunarius a real Runespoor, but had been strictly forbidden from doing such things by his wife. Porpentina's look seemed to reinforce this.

Lunarius was still talking to Newt when the wedding got started, and then he had to leave, because he and James had been volunteered to be ring bearers. This, of course, was before things had soured because of what Lunarius now thought of as The Not-Ugly Incident. Before that, Lunarius had liked James just fine. Now he thought James had a fat head and deserved a matching fat lip. But, recalling what Susan had told him, he just sort of grunted at James while Rose and then Hermione checked that everything about them was in its proper place. James seemed a little confused by the gruffness, but didn't comment on it.

Each boy was given a pillow with a ring on it. Lunarius was tempted to try and smother James with his. Perhaps he was too obvious in his desire, because he caught James subtly edging away from him.

Then they were walking down the aisle, and James kept shooting Lunarius looks, as if trying to catch his eye. Lunarius was staring straight ahead to be difficult. Finally, James lightly kicked Lunarius's foot in a way that was impossible to ignore and probably drew some looks.

"WHAT?" Lunarius finally hissed, though it probably came out as a loud whisper.

"Jelly Legs?" James muttered softly.

Eyes wide in instant understanding, Lunarius shook his head. "Might break something."

"Bat Bogey?"

"Too gross, and we've got to take pictures later."

"Stingers? Hands only?"

That was perfect. They could always shove their hands behind their backs, or in their pockets.

Lunarius nodded.

James grinned, relieved. "Missed you."

Lunarius rolled his eyes. It hadn't even been an hour. "She'd make you crazy, anyway." At the disbelieving look James shot him, he amended, "More than she does now, anyway."

"Doubt that's possible," James snorted.

* * *

"Honestly, what was even in your heads?!" Hannah demanded, shooting another sour look at her son.

"Mostly manly macho stuff," Lunarius said, catching his father's eye. Both tried not to laugh.

"That is not funny, Lunarius! Thank goodness you two waited until the reception was ending to become complete and utter fools!"

"Well, if you can't be a complete and utter fool with your best mate, who-?" Lunarius started to ask, then stopped when he noticed his mother's cool stare. "Sorry, Mum," he murmured.

"I don't think you are, actually, so why don't you spend some time in your room? I'll call you when I think you deserve some fresh air."

"Yes, Mum," he sighed. Only after catching his father's subtle hand signal that he'd sneak some dessert up in an hour or two, Lunarius went to his room, collapsed on his bed, and grinned at the ceiling.

An hour later, Susannah poked her head in. "You're lucky he didn't curse you into oblivion, you know. Picking a fight with Harry Potter's firstborn son. Honestly!"

"You suggesting that you weren't worth it?" Lunarius asked mildly as he sat up.

"No, I'm just saying you picked quite a guy to be an idiot with."

"Well, if you're going to put on a show, might as well do it with a leading man."

Susannah hesitated, then slipped inside, revealing she was carrying a bowl of ice cream and a spoon. She handed both to him, then sat down beside him. "That was really, really stupid, Lu. He could have hurt you badly."

"James wouldn't do that, even if he was mad."

"People don't often think the way they normally would, when they're mad."

"I could say the same thing about being in love." He had learned the hard way not to refer to Susannah's feelings for James as a crush.

"Fair point," she sighed.

"I don't think you're ugly," Lunarius said firmly. "I may tease you, but I would never say anything that hurtful, to you or about you."

She blushed a little. "I know, okay? Rose wouldn't let up about that all day. She was really worried that I actually thought that."

"Didn't you?"

"Well, once she pointed it out for the third time, I realized she was right. But I wouldn't admit it, so she kept pushing until I finally told her to shut up."

Lunarius winced. "She just didn't want us to fight, because then she would get in trouble for not stopping us. She's alright."

Susannah pouted. "I still think she's after my man."

Lunarius groaned.

"Anyway. I thought it was really... daring of you. But stupid. I mean, if he'd killed you, I could hardly go out with him, could I?"

"Maybe that was my plan all along," Lunarius said smugly.

Susannah glared at him. "Not funny."

"Sorry." Lunarius waited for a moment, then added, "It's not that I think James is bad for you anything. But we all know nothing is going to happen between you two right now. He still thinks you're a kid, and he's going to, at least until you've both been at Hogwarts for a few years. You're just forcing it, wasting your time, and annoying him right now. Our families are close, and he's not going anywhere. I'm sure if you wait until you're actually in a position to do something about it, and you're old enough where our parents won't all freak out, your results will be much better."

"Okay," Susannah said softly.

"Just like that?" Lunarius asked.

"Sure. You were willing to risk your life to make your point."

Lunarius shook his head. "I told you, James wouldn't-"

"I heard you. Now you hear me." She put her arm around him. "It was really sweet of you to do that for me. But I like you better in one piece, okay? James and I are inevitable. No sense in you getting hurt over us."

"Just promise me that you two won't be physically inevitable until we're all teenagers, and I'll stay out of your way."

"Deal. Now eat your ice cream. If you spill any, I'm not taking the heat for bringing it to you."

Lunarius took a bite, and then passed the spoon to Susannah, who did the same and passed it back. They had always eaten ice cream this way, since, according to Susan, it wasn't possible to get germs from someone you'd shared a womb with. Lunarius knew that was not true at all, but it made him feel closer to his twin, so he'd never bothered to argue. And he was going to miss it, once they each started dating, because he didn't want germs from James, and he would never risk passing some stranger's germs to Susannah, no matter how attractive or good at kissing that stranger might be.

* * *

"Well, this is it, kids," Neville said, clearing his throat and trying to keep his eyes dry as he turned to face his family. "Good luck on your first year. Make new friends, learn a lot, look after each other, and try not to get expelled. Even I managed that, and I was horrible my first year."

"Come off it, Dad! You were an Auror!" Susannah protested.

"I was also a late bloomer," Neville corrected. "And if not for good friends like Hermione, I would have flunked out well before I hit my stride."

"But that won't happen, since you two will help each other, right?" Hannah asked firmly.

"Sure, I won't let Lu flunk out," Susannah said, throwing her arm around her brother's neck.

"Maybe I won't let _you_ flunk out," Lunarius replied, frowning at her. "Anyway, we've got Rose and James to help us."

" _Especially_ James," Susannah sighed dreamily.

"I'll stick with Rose," Lunarius insisted. "The idea of her and you standing together doesn't make me queasy."

Susan cleared her throat loudly. "You two should worry more about possibly meeting your best friend for life. If you're lucky, the friends you make at Hogwarts will still be with you years later. That's how your mum got stuck with me."

"Unfortunately, I think I've already got a friend for life," Lunarius sighed, staring at Susannah. "But I can't trade her in, I've tried."

Susannah grinned and noisily kissed his cheek. "Aw, I love you, too!"

Lunarius grimaced and wiped his cheek on his shoulder. "If you want to show it a little less, I won't complain."

Susannah turned to Susan. "I hope you don't mind, Sooz, but I'm going to be in Gryffindor with my beloved James."

"That's perfect. I'm sure you'll liven up the place." Susan knelt down to give both kids a big hug. "Love you, babies!"

"Let's go, firsties," James said as he appeared next to Neville. "Rose can't save us seats forever."

"James!" Susannah practically sang, zipping over to his side and latching onto his arm.

James did not scowl, but it was a very close thing. "Ready, Lu?" he asked.

"Sure." Lunarius waved to his parents and godmother, then turned to follow James and Susannah. He had only taken a couple of steps when he nearly ran into a silvery shape that abruptly landed in front of him, and instantly turned into both of his namesakes. "Show-offs," he said with a grin.

"We were in a hurry," Hermione explained. "We didn't want to miss seeing you off, but there was a magical creature emergency, and Luna asked me to come along."

"It turned out okay," Luna said, but Lunarius couldn't help noticing some new bandages on her left hand. As usual, she didn't seem to mind or notice them at all.

"Any last-minute advice for a first year?" Lunarius asked.

"Find a bookish friend as soon as you can," Luna said immediately.

"A slightly odd one might be better in the long run," Hermione offered.

They said this while pointedly not looking at each other, despite the fact that they were still holding hands. Lunarius thought it was cute.

"Don't forget to introduce yourself to Professor Thomas, he's expecting you for Muggle Studies and Magical Art." Hermione's voice was bordering on a lecturing tone, so Lunarius and Luna both hugged her to put a stop to it. She frowned but hugged them back.

"I'll write once I get settled," Lunarius promised. "But please be at home some of the time, and give whatever school owl I send a break." This he directed at Luna, who pouted.

"You could just give them to Roonil-"

"Who also needs a break, and who I expect to be busy keeping you out of trouble." He laughed. "Sometimes I think you two need more watching than Susannah."

"What a mean thing to say to us!" Hermione cried.

"It's not. I don't mind so much, if it's you two. You make more sense than Susannah, anyway."

"You be nice to your sister," Luna instructed. "Even if she isn't nice to you. It's not her fault that you got the superior namesakes."

"Do I have your permission to tell her that?"

Hermione shook her head. "I think that would fall firmly outside the category of being nice, Lunarius. Now, according to Rose, she's too old to have her mum seeing her off, so could I convince you to give her a hug from me?"

Lunarius nodded. "Sure. I'll even throw in a kiss, in front of everybody. Bet she'd love that."

Hermione tried not to laugh. "I suppose if you make it clear that it's from me, at least some of her outrage won't be directed at you."

"Hurry, now," Luna added. "Don't want to miss your train."

Lunarius gave them each a quick hug and kiss, then hurried out of sight.

"He'll be fine," Luna said confidently.

"Yes," Hermione agreed. "He already has a larger support system than either of us did in first year."

"Do you think we should remind Hannah of that?"

"Couldn't hurt."

With their noses, it wasn't hard to find Hannah. She was still standing between Neville and Susan, watching the train. But as if she had also been seeking Hermione and Luna in return, their eyes soon met, and she stepped away from her husband and best friend.

"I'm glad you two made it," Hannah told them. "I was worried you wouldn't."

"Susan would never let us hear the end of it, if she was here and we weren't," Hermione replied. "And we knew it was important to Lunarius."

"It's important to me, too. Not a day goes by when I don't thank-"

"You don't have to keep saying it," Luna interrupted. "We appreciate it, but we know. We were glad to do it. And it was entirely selfish on our part. It's not every day someone thinks enough of you to name their child after you. We couldn't let anything happen to him."

"Or Susannah," Hermione said sharply.

"Yes, her, as well," Luna added unconvincingly.

Hannah tried not to laugh. "Very nice, Luna."

"Yes, wasn't it?"

Hannah shook her head. "We were all going to meet back at Harry and Ginny's to compare first year memories. Are you two busy, or can you join us?"

"Sounds fun," Hermione said. "Luna?"

Luna tilted her head. "Sounds boringly lovely. I'm in."

"Wonderful!" Hannah said brightly. "Neville will be so pleased."

"And Susan, not so much," Luna added as Hannah hurried back to Neville and Susan.

Hermione swatted her arm. "Hush. She's competitive, that's all."

"She should be. We're the better namesakes."

Hermione ignored this. "I suppose Hannah didn't really need cheering up at all."

"No. She's far more upbeat, while Susan is more grounded. It's what makes them a good match for Neville."

* * *

"How much farther, Grumpy?" the little girl whined, tugging on his hand.

Neville paused, chuckling. Even now, he still had to remind himself that his great-great-granddaughter was not commenting on his attitude. But she'd been lucky enough to meet six separate blood-related grandfathers in her short life, and at some point, ran out of polite nicknames to call them. In any case, it was better than her name for Lunarius, which had been "Hermit" (actually "Hermit Jr.", a clear reference to how often Hermione vanished into her piles of books for hours at a time). Some might consider it wholly unfair, since Luna got away with simply being called "Lulu", and seemed to like it.

"It won't be long now, Pepper," Neville assured her. "Not long at all. But if you're tired, I can carry you." With ease, he swung the little brunette up and settled her on his shoulders. Pepper grabbed onto his white hair automatically, still clinging to the childish belief that he might topple over one day.

The curse wasn't something the nine of them talked about anymore. Once their children had all decided not to be cursed, there wasn't much to say. And by unspoken agreement, they had kept it from future generations. There had been many times when they were tempted, but ultimately, they understood why their children had refused the curse, and why others would, as well. So all the latest generation knew was that their surviving great-great-grandparents were unusually energetic. Even Queenie, who had been older than the other eight to start with, still dared to play Quidditch with the kids, and she played dirtier than even the wiliest veterans, because according to her, at her age, she deserved to get away with anything. And after she'd cheated her way to victory, she'd take everyone inside and bake them treats, so the aches and sore feelings were soon forgotten.

Neville and Pepper soon reached their destination, and they were the last to arrive. The other white-haired figures were already there, looking just as fit as the last time Neville had seen them. Luna noticed them first and waved. Neville was relieved to see she was also carrying a child: a bundle affixed to her chest, out of which a silver-eyed boy peeked curiously.

"Lulu!" Pepper called, mightily suppressing the urge to tackle her, out of consideration for the baby.

Neville leaned close so that Luna could kiss Pepper's cheek. "Hi, everyone," he greeted.

They all exchanged greetings, before attention shifted again to the reason for their gathering.

Neville sighed and looked down at the tombstones. Even now, it felt odd to think that his kids were there. He could still see them all too clearly: Lunarius holding his first grandchild, Susannah surrounded by her sons. Hannah's warm hand finding Neville's own suddenly made it far more real, though, and they leaned into each other, letting the memories swirl around them.

Pepper, in her usual way, summed up what they were thinking. "I miss Hermit Jr. and Bossy."

Hannah laughed softly and took the girl into her arms. "So do we, honey. And even though you only knew them for a short time, they lived long, happy lives. That's why we come here, to celebrate them."

Pepper frowned. "So, one day... I'll come here with my family and celebrate you?"

There was a pause.

"Of course you will," Luna said, and it was almost as if a spell, or curse, had been broken with those words. "No one is here forever, Pepper. That's what gives living meaning. One day, you have to move on. And when you do, your family remembers you."

Pepper nodded, of course not understanding how very long that Luna herself, and especially Queenie, had been alive. Nor could she understand how all of the nine would view it as a relief, to finally move on. They had fought their own battles, and many others besides. They had watched their families and friends be consumed by time, and fresh ones sprout up to start the cycle anew. And at some point, it really did become too much to bear.

Harry's nightmares had ended, or so he said. But Neville thought it more likely that Harry simply didn't have nightmares about Voldemort. Did Harry see the children he'd lost? The friends he'd been unable to save? The dim corners of that accursed cupboard? He'd lived through enough where he deserved to have Voldemort be the least of his worries, but that didn't mean there was nothing else to haunt him.

In the case of each trio, the curse had done exactly what it was meant to do: keep them alive and together, long enough to overcome whatever challenges one or more had been facing. They did not regret their choices, had in fact lived with them, longer than most ever would or could. And it was enough. Their reputations and descendants were secure, and the only adventure truly left to brave was that which was beyond them, in their current state. Pepper had just been the first to speak it aloud, and now that she had, it could no longer be ignored. Truthfully, the main reason they did not exit gracefully immediately was the presence of the children. But it was in the eyes of each of the nine as they parted ways that night: the time had come, passed them by, and come around once more.

It was time to go.

* * *

Pepper Longbottom was the one who found Neville and Hannah, seemingly asleep in their armchairs. When they did not wake to her calls, and proved cold to the touch, she was not alarmed, and told no one.

Three hours later, Pepper's parents found her seated in front of Neville and Hannah, apparently toasting them with a mug of pumpkin juice. When they asked why she hadn't summoned them or told anyone, she insisted that her great-great-grandparents wouldn't have wanted any of that.

"I'm celebrating Grumpy and Nana," she said stubbornly. And Pepper had been born stubborn. So rather than try to talk her out of it, her parents allowed it, assuming it was her way of mourning. It seemed to please her, at any rate, and a pleased Pepper was more easily tolerated by everyone. Especially considering that nine elderly people she was acquainted with passed away all at once. That she did not seem greatly bothered was strange, but a strange blessing. Nor was her sudden interest in learning every detail of their lives considered unwelcome. The Nine, as they were soon called, were notable figures in the wizarding world, and few magical educations were completed without at least some mention of them.

* * *

"Miss Longbottom. Miss Potter. Miss Bones. I cannot stress how much I would prefer that we stop meeting under these circumstances. I trust I do not need to explain why, again?"

"No, Headmistress Patil," all three students murmured.

"I can appreciate your interest in... certain branches of magic. Technically, I cannot even prevent you from researching, so long as you do so outside of Hogwarts. But you were caught experimenting on campus. And while I have no solid proof of what you were experimenting with, if I did, I would have no choice but to expel you all. And I would hate for my school to have lost five promising students this year."

At that, Poppy Potter broke down, burying her face in her hands. Her friends instantly converged on her with hugs and murmured assurances.

Patil turned away, allowing them a moment to compose themselves. "I, too, regret what happened to Miss Weasley and Miss Scamander. You cannot imagine how much. They were family and friends to you, but I was the one entrusted with their lives, and thus, I am responsible for that great loss. I can think of no better way to repay them, than to ensure that you three graduate. I ask that you not allow your extracurricular activities to become an obstacle to that goal."

"None of us blames you, Headmistress," Puppy Bones spoke up, tugging on a lock of her black hair. "You did everything you could. You're the main reason we wanted to stay at Hogwarts... after everything. None of us regrets being in your care. I'm sure they didn't, either. It's just hard for us to move on. And breaking the rules, in an odd way, makes us feel closer to them. We know it's wrong, but it doesn't feel that way to us."

Patil shook her head. "You are no longer little girls, but young ladies. I will not treat you like children. This is the last warning I can give. Please, keep that in mind as you return to your dormitories."

"We will, Headmistress Patil," Pepper said, although the Headmistress knew very well that a promise from that one was worth less than a discarded butterbeer bottlecap.

"You two go ahead," Puppy added as her friends rose to leave. "I'll catch up. I need to ask the Headmistress something."

Poppy looked as if she wanted to stay, but Pepper, ever the leader, grabbed Poppy's hand and dragged her out of the office.

"The strength of your friendship never ceases to amaze me," Patil noted.

"We were very, very lucky," Puppy admitted. "Our friends gave their lives to make sure we were."

"I don't follow," Patil said slowly.

"I think you do. The mysterious fire at Hermione's archives. The vandalism at my mother's antique shop. Those weren't random or accidents. Did you know, they were actually considering allowing it to die with them? Or at least, not to be the ones who passed it on. But you killed my friends. So I convinced myself that I had a need. And that was all it took."

Patil shook her head. "I think your grief has clouded-"

The blasts from their wands went off simultaneously. Fittingly, they had both avoided using an Unforgivable Curse, instead using the Blasting Curse - the very same curse that had killed Panda Scamander and Prosperity "Proper" Weasley. That both casters were not killed, or harmed in any way, was due solely to the skill of Headmistress Patil, who quickly conjured up a large raincloud that doused everything in the office with a steady downpour.

Puppy had seen all she needed. She had put plenty of power into her curse. Too much, in fact. Only someone used to casting that curse could react so quickly to counter it, in such a confined space, without any injury.

Patil knew it, as well.

"I didn't want it to be you," Puppy whispered. "I admired you so much. Even when all the evidence started to point at you, I said it had to be wrong. So I was relieved, when I found out that you were just a sympathizer, and not an actual Dark witch. And I can believe that you were put in an impossible position, and had to make impossible choices that no one should ever have to. Maybe you didn't want to kill my friends. But you did kill them, there's no denying it now. And I'm not here for justice. I want revenge."

"I'll have to silence you, now," Patil murmured. "I regretted it then, and I regret it now. But I have too much to lose."

"Just your life," Puppy spat, jabbing at the raincloud overhead with her wand.

"You foo-!" Patil cried, just as the first lightning bolt took her in the chest. As she fell, the last thing she saw was the blazing red rings in Puppy's eyes.

* * *

The scandal was enormous, but the conclusion was unmistakable. A life and death battle had occurred in Headmistress Patil's office, between herself and a student. Amazingly, only the student survived, and she was able to present evidence that implicated the late Headmistress in the deaths of two students, as well as years of privately funding the efforts of Dark causes worldwide.

There were many theories that suggested how the student survived against such a powerful witch, but the most popular one was also one of the most truthful: she was a Bones, and they had been hunted to near extinction by Voldemort for a reason: they would not join him, and they were too powerful to be allowed to remain on the opposing side.

Puppy Bones suffered severe burns, but miraculously made a full recovery. Aside from a few odd-colored patches on her chest, no one would ever guess that she had been the victim of repeated, though self-inflicted, lightning strikes. But she had needed to be sure that only one person would leave that office alive, and she hadn't been concerned at all about her own survival.

* * *

"Hey, come on," Puppy said, tugging the small blonde girl along by the arm. "It'll be fine."

"But what if-?" the smaller girl asked for the third time, only to get a tight squeeze.

"I told you already. They're my friends. They won't tease you." After a moment's thought, she added, "At least, not until they know you better. And by then, you won't mind so much."

"You sure?" the smaller girl asked doubtfully.

Puppy stopped and turned to glare at her. "All of a sudden, you don't trust me?"

The smaller girl wilted under her gaze. "But they aren't you."

"They're as good as." Puppy renewed her grip and pulled her companion around the side of the house, dragging her toward the trio of girls seated in the grass. "Hey, guys!"

The three girls looked up, their gazes immediately going to the smaller girl, who they had never seen outside of pictures. She squeaked in fear and tried to hide behind Puppy, who neatly sidestepped and grabbed her by the waist, keeping her firmly in view.

"This is Panda," Puppy said, shaking the blonde a little. "She's my new friend."

There was a prolonged silence, in which Panda tried, once more, to unsuccessfully hide.

Finally, Pepper, ever the bold one, spoke up. "You two kinda match, Pup."

Puppy frowned, having expected that. Indeed, the only reason Panda had even been bold enough to approach Puppy at all, was because she'd never seen a second girl with a discolored patch around her eye. "Yeah? So what, Pep?" Puppy demanded.

Pepper grinned. "So nothing. Why are you two all the way over there? We haven't got dragonpox. You might get a bad case of freckle face from Proper over here, but-"

"Shut up, Pepper!" Prosperity shouted, even more red-faced than usual as she made a grab at Pepper.

"Come on, don't fight," Poppy said, pushing them apart, but she kept her head down so Prosperity wouldn't see her grinning.

Panda relaxed slightly. "They really didn't point and laugh at me..."

"Told you they wouldn't," Puppy said. What she _hadn't_ said was that Pepper had very much pointed and laughed the first time they'd met, and she'd only stopped once Puppy punched her in the mouth. Instead of crying or returning the hit, Pepper had spit out blood and said that Puppy hit like a girl. But since Puppy hadn't known enough to realize Pepper meant it as an insult, she just said, "Okay." And when Pepper saw the fight was over, she decided she'd rather have a friend that would stand up to her, instead of one who wouldn't.

They girls found that each of their names had a story.

Pepper claimed that she sneezed a lot right after she was born. Everyone else seemed to think she had probably been either red-faced or hotheaded at the time, if not both.

Poppy said flower names ran in her family, which was true.

Prosperity had been named by a distant, elderly uncle. And his name was supposedly Insomnia Weasley, so as far as she was concerned, she'd gotten off lucky.

Panda said she'd been born with a white hair on her arm, and between that and the spot around her eye, she was pretty much trapped with the name. It was hard to argue the point, as she still had the white hair, and it had grown some friends as she got older.

Puppy had the best story, and it had little to do with the spot around her eye. She'd been born with a full set of baby teeth. Which sounded impossible, except in every picture of Puppy before she was around six years old, there was forever a seemingly random object in her mouth. And there was plenty of stuff still in the basement that bore old teeth marks.

* * *

Puppy was not quite expelled, but it didn't matter, as she could not bring herself to stay at Hogwarts. Too many poisoned memories, she said when asked. Once released from the hospital wing, she only stayed long enough to collect her belongings. Pepper and Poppy had wanted to leave with her, and would have done so in a heartbeat if she asked them to. Instead, she asked them to stay. Prosperity and Panda would have wanted them to. Anyway, Puppy knew what she was meant to do with her life, and she was already doing it. And the things she did have left to learn, Hogwarts would never teach her.

Fortunate, then, that she already had a teacher secured.

Said teacher floated through Puppy's bedroom wall as Puppy walked in, dragging her school trunk.

"So. You did it," the ghost said.

"Yeah," Puppy murmured.

"Feel better?"

"I'm glad they're avenged. But there's more to do."

"There's always more to do, Pup. And more to learn. It's why I'm here."

"Good. Because I want to get started right away." Puppy shrugged off her coat, and started to remove her yellow and black scarf.

"Leave that. Looks good on you, and I'm feeling a bit nostalgic."

Puppy grinned, showing her teeth. The scarf was actually a little small for her, as it had been Panda's. "Cool. So what's first, Sooz?"

"You're still too slow," Susan teased, and in a flash, Puppy had her wand raised, but pouted when she saw that Susan's finger had beat her by a considerable amount.

"Again," Puppy growled insistently, red rings briefly flashing in her eyes.

Susan grinned. "That's my girl."

* * *

 _The cold, still air upon the hill_  
 _Went undisturbed for years._  
 _And then, one day, three Crups arose_  
 _To face the world of fears._  
 _They fight, and fall, and rise, and bleed_  
 _For that is the fate of all, indeed_  
 _Who lay claim to life upon the hill._

 **The End...**


End file.
